


Your Feet Won’t Touch The Ground

by taroe (orphan_account)



Series: A Man Stands In The Forest, Quiet and Mute [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alpha Hannibal, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Angst, Babies, Discussion of Abortion, Emotional Manipulation, M/M, Mild Smut, Minor Character Death, Morally Ambiguous Character, Mpreg, Omega Will, Recreational Drug Use, Slow Burn, Suggestions of Parental Neglect, Teen Pregnancy, teenagers will be dramatic and over-analytic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-14
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-06-02 05:18:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 13
Words: 20,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6552565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/taroe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will Graham is sixteen. He's an omega, a disappointment to his father, his best friend is going through her obligatory deep philosophical phase and he's pregnant by the poetic Lithuanian alpha who's just moved in down the street.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

Will Graham lives in Minnesota.  
  
He’s lived in Minnesota for about a year now and he doesn’t much care for it. It’s too cold in the winter and it’s too hot in the summer. All his life, he’d assumed a permanent home might promote a crumb of betterment for his broken little family, which currently consisted of himself, his father and a stray kitten he found in a box by the bus shelter that he named Max. Even with their forever home, Will’s Dad is still an alcoholic. They’re still eating ramen for dinner every night and Will is still buying their clothes from Goodwill. He spent the entirety of winter clad in multiple layers of Minnesota State hoodies. This was at a point where he wasn’t quite sure if it was possible for him to become more ostracised than he was when he first started at his current high school. He was now past this point.

He misses his nomadic lifestyle. He hated it while it was a thing, he really, truly did. A therapist he’d seen a few weeks before they moved here once told him that the crux of his social problems were almost completely due to the nomadic life he lived. He’d never had the opportunity to properly socialise and as such wasn’t good with social interaction. No shit.

Having had the chance to settle somewhere, though, Will had actually managed to make a few friends. Whether or not they were friends because they liked him as a person, because he filled a void or because they pitied him, he couldn’t really stay. It was nice to have company, though. Something to do on the weekend that wasn’t rewatching old episodes of Macgyver while listening to his father cuss out a boat engine.

His friendship with Beverly Katz manages to be complex yet exceedingly straightforward, all at once. It’s based mostly on pity; at least, that was how it began. Beverly was motherly and Will was pitiful and had holes in his sweater. It was less about pity, now, more about companionship, which Will supposes is at the core of all relationships. They sit on the rusty swings in the park reserve mostly for public sex acts and they have deep conversations while Beverly gets high. Sometimes Will gets high too, depending on whether or not his father is going to be home. He likes it. It puts his thoughts into spirals and he can concentrate on Beverly’s ridiculous conspiracies without feeling the undercurrent of pity that emanates off most people in Will’s company.

It hadn’t emanated from _him_ , though.

Will shook himself, falling back into the grass. He wasn’t going to think about Hannibal Lecter today. Today was a Hannibal Lecter free-zone and he would not give him the satisfaction of his brooding, not even for a moment. He stared up at the grey sky, watching Beverly linger above him, try in vain to light her joint as she rocked herself rhythmically on the swing. Every time she managed to yield a flame, out it would go, pitted against the mercy of the elements. It was funny. But Will wasn’t really in the mood to laugh at her.

“I don’t think God approves of your vices.” He admitted, solemnly, after her ninth attempt.

“God is never gonna approve of me, Will. I love shellfish and I lust after cheerleaders.” Beverly replied, cupping her lighter and balancing the joint from her mouth. “Why me.” She looked at the sky, a pitiful expression taped to generally jovial features.

“You literally just listed off your sins. Pled guilty.” Will reminded her, pausing. “You know you can get wind resistant lighters? They’re electric. The flame looks like a little Bunsen burner. My Dad used to buy them from the drug store. We might still have a few, if you want one.”

“No shit? I might have to take you up on that- Aha!” Beverly’s preservation had finally paid off, the girl taking a heavy drag and swinging triumphantly as she exhaled. Will clapped and Beverly basked in the glory of her success. “Thank you, thank you.” She grinned. “Want some?” Will considered.

“Sure.” He said, sitting up and awkwardly taking the joint. He didn’t want to think today. The offer was appreciated.

He had smoked quite a few times but still wasn’t very good at it. He would inhale and then promptly exhale in shock. This was time was no exception, Beverly rolling her eyes and handed Will a can of flat coke, which he downed, red in the face.

“You’re such a cute ‘lil virginal cracker.” She teased, thinking about what she said as Will eased himself onto the swing next to her. “On second thought, that’s almost prejudice.”

“Maybe a little. I am total white trash, though.” Will admitted, freely. “Funny you should mention it, actually.”

“Mention what? Crackers? God I could totally go for some graham crackers right now.” Beverly almost moaned, taking another drag on the joint. Will set the can of coke tightly between his legs, rocking on the soles of his feet as he basked in the pleasant afternoon breeze.

“Not that. The other thing. The virgin thing.” He shrugged, Beverly grinning at him.

“Fuck, you’re… Totally implying what I think you are, right?” Will smiled too, triumphantly.

“Maybe I am.” He had this air of smugness to him that Beverly found infuriating.

“Please don’t tease me. Did you get laid, Graham? With whom did you get laid with? C’mon, details.”

“I don’t make a habit of kissing and telling.” Will replied idly.

“Dude, I do! I told you about Margot’s Verger’s hidden money and her creepy ass family.” She narrowed her eyes. “I tell you everything, Will Graham. Because I thought we were friends. But fine. Fine.” She sniffed and looked away from Will, who rolled his eyes.

“You don’t know him. He doesn’t go to our school. I don’t think he goes to any school, come to think of it.”

“So it’s a he! Oh fuck, was he older?”

“Only by a year or so.” Will sounded defensive. Truthfully, he wasn’t quite sure how old Hannibal was. He was young enough to be around his age. He pulled his messy bangs back. Thinking about Hannibal made his heart hurt for long lengths of time. Though it didn’t feel like he was keeping secrets from Beverly anymore, which was a relief, he’d now have to avoid questions about Hannibal, realistically, for the rest of their friendship.

“So you are into guys?” Beverly pressed.

“I guess. I like girls too, I think. I don’t know. I didn’t really want to be an Omega cliché.” Beverly shrugged.

“You like who you like. I’m a gay beta. What could be more cliché than that?” She laughed. “So what was it like?  This mystery guy. Are you two dating?”

Will shook his head, looking at the grass, the intricacies of the tiny daisies that peeked up from the green.

“I don’t think so. I…” Tears budded in his eyes, and he lent forward even more. “He’s not really... We didn’t really talk after. And I saw him with Alana Bloom the other day, so I guess we were a one-time thing.” He laughed through his tears. “I like him. I still really like him. He’s kind, he’s different. I... I don't feel like he feels bad for me, i-if that makes any sense." 

“Shit, Will, don’t cry.” Beverly clucked her tongue, pulling Will into a comforting embrace.

“I’m s-sorry… I-I’m j-just… I-I’m so embarrassed, because I didn’t really feel like myself after we’d done... W-whatever, I don’t know; it’s not really my thing. I don’t know where I stand with him and it hurts. I c-can't even read him. I-I mean, we were friends, before a-and now we might be n-nothing.” Will sobbed. The can between his thighs fell as he moved to fully enjoy Beverly’s embrace, the liquid splashing his sneakers. He didn’t react.

“Don’t apologize for crying. You’re sad. It happens.” She ran her hands through Will’s hair, shushing him quietly. “You’re okay. The fact this guy hasn’t made an effort to talk to you makes him a straight-up douchebag." She clucked her tongue.

"H-he kinda did. Try, I mean. He texted me a few times, I think he called out for me once, o-on the street." Beverly frowned.

"Will, you do understand that you've basically just admitted you're upset because you've been avoiding him?" She inquired, to her credit, rather delicately. 

"I... It's a bit more complex than that. H-he could've... I mean, h-he should've... My Dad would literally kill me i-if he found out about us. A-and then he'd probably kill him. Fuck, Beverly, t-this is just really fucked." He sobbed and Beverly sighed, dropping her joint and taking her beautiful best friend into her arms. WIll suddenly didn't regret mentioning his encounter with Hannibal anymore. The comfort was cathartic. 

"I know. Fuck, Will." For once, she didn't have the words. She held him gently, cradling him as he cried. "It does get better. Even if you can't fix it with this guy, even if you don't want to be with this guy, you'll get better." She sighed, pressing her chin to Will's glumly. He deserved somebody who would protect him."This is the worst part. I promise." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for this. This fic was born primarily from sleep deprivation, my aching desire to write omegaverse Hannigram and my fondness for Ellen Page movies. Thank you for reading this stupid thing~


	2. Chapter Two

Will had first crossed paths with Hannibal Lecter at the local library.

There had been something so mysterious about Hannibal that had been the centrefold of his thoughts when he’d first laid eyes on him. To this day, he wasn’t so sure if it had been instant attraction or simply Will appreciating the moment in which he was in, the way the late-afternoon sun had lit up both Hannibal and the book he was buried in. He held it with such care, both palms settled lightly on either face of the cover. It made him look almost open, vulnerable. It was Will’s inference that got him that far, though. He hadn’t acted on whatever it was he’d experienced when he’d first laid eyes on Hannibal. Though his stomach was in knots, he simply scrunched up his face and wandered off to work on his science paper. Will often likened pretty people to roses. They were nice to look at but in the same vein, he knew he’d get hurt if he touched them.

It had been Hannibal that had first made an effort to talk to him. Behaviour that, to Will, was entirely foreign. The way Hannibal had tried to spur him into conversation on the third occasion they’d crossed paths was illogical and confusing to Will. Elementary school notwithstanding, he‘d never in his post-pubescent life had anybody express such delicate, honest interest in him. It was both extremely flattering and the slightest bit frustrating.

Hannibal was attractive, tall without it being ridiculous and well built. Will was awkward and was still waiting on his miracle growth spurt that seemed less and less likely to happen as the years ticked by. Hannibal Lecter, was, in addition to being aesthetically pleasing, almost impossible to read. He’d spent the many conversations they’d had together talking Will analytically through the fiction he’d had been assigned, using language that seemed far too passionate for a high school level analysation. Maybe Hannibal just had a bit of an affinity for Emily Brontë. It seemed more likely that his affinity was for Will, though. Though Will found it near enough impossible to imagine himself in Hannibal’s shoes, he could pick up the passion in his gaze, the way it would flare up and positively burn when their gazes collided.

Until they'd first kissed, the idea that Hannibal was hyping up to play some cruel trick on him had always been lingering in the back of his mind, whether he was overly aware of it or not. When they had kissed, the idea that this was some sort of joke flew out of the window, along with Will’s delicate concept of his sexuality. Then they did more than just kiss and Will regretted ever Hannibal could ever do such a thing. Even now, he was still pretty sure that hadn’t been a joke. Yet he felt awful when he thought about their encounter.

It hadn’t even been bad. For somebody like him, losing his virginity in a bed made of Egyptian cotton was a one up from the quickie in the back of somebody’s truck that he’d always envisioned. He’d only felt how abhorrently bad an idea it had been when he laid back in Hannibal’s bed, the deed done. It had dawned on him that he didn’t even know when Hannibal’s birthday was. Then he felt sick and disgusting. He’d left when Hannibal fell asleep. While did _like_ Hannibal, he wouldn’t have gone as far to have proclaimed his love. He didn’t really know him all that, besides the pleasant taste in clothing and his vast knowledge of 19 th century British literature. But that wasn’t enough. Not for Will, not for his first time. He had always assumed the loss of virginity was some other-worldly thing that would kickstart his passage into adulthood. But he was still sat up at midnight watching reruns of Grey’s Anatomy, bundling himself tighter under the blankets every time a car sped past the window. 

Will was lying on his side, on the sofa, staring at his relic of a cellphone expectantly. His father was late home. He’d hadn’t texted since four, Will had naturally reverted to his usual pattern of idly planning his the man’s funeral.  He pulled the blanket that enveloped him over his mouth, reaching out for his phone and sitting up abruptly. He remembered what Beverly had said, about this being the worst part. She was right. She was so, so right. He could and would forget about Hannibal. He was under the assumption that Hannibal's residency wasn't permanent. Either Hannibal was going to leave, or he was.

He unlocked his phone regardless, checking that his father hadn’t messaged him. He hadn’t, not since he last checked ten minutes ago. The omega curled his legs to his chest, gaze flickering to the television and then to his phone. He clicked on Hannibal’s name in his contacts, noticing an unread message. His heart was in his throat.The message had been sent around a week ago and Will had missed it. 

_I hope you are okay. I don’t mind if you would like to just be friends. I do enjoy your companionship and I think you’re a wonderful person. I would prefer to have in my life in a friendly context than not at all._

Will’s bottom lip trembled. He ran his thumb over the keyboard, considering.

_You didn’t. I’m really sorry. I’d like to be your friend._

He sent the message, wiping tears from his face and sitting back in the dark little living room. He felt pathetic, so small and stupid. The brunette slumped back onto the sofa, pulling the blanket over his face and allowing himself to cry, just a little. He did like Hannibal, impossibly so. He was different. He was also not set in stone. Will was confused, he was damaged and simply had no room for a relationship.  

He had begun to drift into a fuzzy, half ssleep when the living room filled with bright white light. The unhealthy roar of his father’s truck died out, Will's gaze trickling to the front door. It swung open less than gracefully, his father’s muffled cursing as he loudly his way through the darkness to the living room. He stank of alcohol and sweat. Will clasped the blanket tightly to his face. He was far more aware of how revolting his father smelt than he usually was. 

“Thought I told you to shut that shit off if you’re not actually watching it.” His father voiced, irately, addressing the little bundle of blankets where his only child often took sanctuary.

“Sorry.” Will wasn’t sorry at all, listening to the television clicking, his father sitting in his armchair.

“Why are you still up, anyway?” Nicholas inquired.

“Just wanted to make sure you made it home in one piece.” He replied, stiffly.

“Well, I’m home now.” Nicholas was looking at his son, no, staring. Suspiciously.

“Yeah.” Will looked away from Nicholas. He was uncomfortable, practically tasting his father’s scrutiny.

“You smell different.” Will’s father acknowledged after a moment, his brow furrowed. While there’s a slight slur to his words, he sounds immensely put together. Aware.

“ _Probably_ because I don’t smell like a brewery.” Will retorted, covering his face. His mind briefly flickered to the joint that Beverly had smoked that afternoon. He’d showered since he’d gotten home, though.

“Don’t sass me, kid. You smell different.” He repeated. There’s tangible disgust in his voice. The thought vaguely crosses Will’s mind that his father might smell Hannibal. It had been a month, though. If he hadn’t smelt then, he wouldn’t smell it now.

“New shampoo.” He sniffed, sitting up and wandering into the kitchen, turning the light on and filling the kettle with water. “Do you want coffee?” Will called, but his father was in the kitchen with him, closing the door behind him like he was shutting out the world from this conversation.

“Don’t avoid the subject. Your mother used to do… T-the same thing.” He flared his nostrils slightly, something that he naturally did when he was thinking. Something that Will did too.“You smell just like she fucking did. Just like her, Will…” He was crying, a sight that was so jarring and disgusting that Will almost dropped the kettle. His father, with his unkempt beard and his weatherbeaten face from years working at boatyards. 

“Dad.” He looked at his father, dared to set the kettle aside and approach him, reaching out a hand to set on his shoulder. “I’m sorry.” He wasn’t quite sure what he was apologizing for. For being a reminder, he assumed, a constant reminder of what his father had lost. “I’m… Is it this month?” That made sense. Will didn’t give enough of a shit about her to keep track. She was a concept. 

"Yeah." He replies, stiffly. He stares at Will, those maddeningly beautiful eyes and that wispy hair that is all her."Three months after your birthday." He ran a hand through Will's hair and he musters this tender smile. It's so unlike him, but he appreciates every moment of it. "I didn't raise you like she wanted me to." 

"You did alright. I'm still alive." Will reassured, a little more briskly than was perhaps necessary. 

"You're not okay, though, are you?" His eyes flickered to Will's, as he beheld the abnormally sweet smell emanating from his child. It wasn't right. He smelt just like Sophia had, just like her, comfort and warmth defined in a scent. Like home. "You're on birth control, ain't you?" He inquired, Will backing off a little. 

"I... I'm not. I mean, w-we looked into suppressants, didn't we but they're... I mean, the doctor said there wasn't any need if I wasn't already having regular heats." He scratches his wrists and glues his eyes to the pantry and Nicholas just _knows_. 

"Did you fuck somebody?" He inquired. He does this thing with his lip that he does when he doesn't want Will to feel what he's feeling. When he doesn't want him to have an advantage in fights, for example. It doesn't work. This was perhaps the only time where Will has wished it did.

"Don't be ridiculous. Who'd wanna...That's just stupid." Will laughed. His eyes began to water.

"Don't lie. Did you fuck somebody? Did you use anything?" He's desperate for answers and Will feels like the air has been pushed from his lungs.

"Dad, I'm n-not, o-okay, I'm not." Will tries to push past him. Nicholas isn't having any of it.

"Why the fuck are you having sex?! You're sixteen years old, Will!" He barked, Will closing his eyes so tightly he could see stars.

"It was one time a-and we used protection. It won't happen again, okay? S-so just leave me alone! Y'know, I bet you were doing way worse shit when you were my age!" 

"I'm an alpha, it's different!" 

"No it's not! That's so typical of you! Ever since I found out I was an omega you've treated me like I'm a girl! I'm a still a guy, Dad!" Will spat back.

"Maybe if you didn't put yourself in a position where you got yourself fucked I wouldn't have to treat you like my daughter!" Will puffed out his cheeks.

"I'm going to bed." He attempted to push past, only for his father to grab his wrist.   
  
"Oh, no. You're coming with me!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the love and the comments. You've all given me so much motivation to keep writing. It's really fun to explore all these relationships out of canon from a different perspective.  
> 


	3. Chapter Three

Will’s right wrist was sore. It was the only sensation he felt that wasn't emptiness. He’d been dragged through Wal-Mart at one in the morning, forced to buy two pregnancy tests, which his father had loudly assured the entire store would be coming out of his college fund. A non-existent college fund, Will knew. The cashier certainly hadn’t. She hadn’t run the other test through at the correct price.

Two packaged pregnancy tests sat on the coffee table in front of him and his father in front of them. Displayed, like a relic of Will's shame.

"I’m not pregnant.” He voiced spitefully, the first thing he’d said since his father had dragged him to the truck.  “I did have sex with somebody, a guy, an alpha, I-I’ll… Admit that. And while it was impulsive, we weren’t stupid. He used protection.”

“How can you be sure?” Nicholas practically growled.

"Because I fucking… Saw him take it off, okay?! When he'd finished. L-look, I really don’t want to go through the specifics of this with you. I’m not pregnant, there is no possible way I can be pregnant so please can I just go to bed? I have school tomorrow. Today.” He could barely keep his eyes open.

“The only reliable form of birth control is abstinence. You’re too young to be having sex, Will." 

“What, coming from a guy who had sex-ed in Louisiana?! Which you fucking had in the eighties, when it was basically all AIDs fear mongering, might I add?!"

“You are _really_ pushing it. What is this, you turn sixteen and suddenly you have the right to sass me and sleep around?!”

“No, I turned sixteen, made actual friends and realized that normal parents aren’t so caught up in their self-pity that they spent the entirety of their kid’s childhood state-hopping because their wife left them! I’m fucking sorry that Mom found a cult more alluring a concept than raising a family with you; I’m fucking sorry I’m not the alpha son you wanted! I’m sorry you’ve had to waste valuable time you could’ve spent drinking on child rearing! Oh wait, you still fucking did that, didn’t you?!” He had never felt more in control of himself, He wanted to go, to never come back. Without hesitation, he flounced over to the door, slamming it shut behind it. 

For the second time that evening, he was out on the front lawn in his pyjamas. He didn’t even have his phone on him. The tirade he’d spewed on his father warranted a slap, perhaps more, so home wasn't an option, at least for now. Not that he wanted to go back in there.

That left one of two options. There was always Bev, who had given him a place to crash on more than one occasion. She lived a good half hour away and Will knew her parents didn't particularly approve of her sharing a room with boys. Which Will would never not find amusing. Will was cold and tired, the growing bite of winter ridiculously apparent. He was clad in a thin shirt, which wasn't a suitable insulator. Not for long, anyway.

His eyes flickered to the large collection of woodland that backed off his home. A five minute walk and he'd be there, the beautiful home where Hannibal resided. It was remote, vast and he doubted he’d be very welcome. It was late and he’d basically rejected Hannibal. His feet led him there regardless.

The home that the Lecter’s inhabited looked like something out of a fairy-tale. Even in the early hours in the morning, it was still gorgeous, framed by evergreens. Will could hear the slushing of a nearby stream. The only other time he’d visited, he hadn’t been paying enough attention to admire his surroundings. There were a few lights still illuminating the manor, which almost set Will at ease. Almost.

He swallowed, pausing outside the gates. He wrapped a firm hand around the bars that closed off the pedestrian entrance, hesitating. When he pushed it, the gate went with him, so he could definitely make it inside without fence jumping. It wasn’t that. There were butterflies, the worst kind, the kind that hammered against his walls stomach like a jackknife. He managed to coax himself into autopilot, wandering through the gate and up the pathway.

He beheld the lion door knocker like it was made of flesh instead of brass. The male knocked awkwardly, his hands immediately snapping to his side. There was a long pause that was nearly the end of him, before the door slid open. An elegant woman, who couldn’t have been much older than thirty appeared in the doorway, eyeing Will up and down with some confusion. She was clad in a silk nightgown, wearing her long black hair in a tight bun.

“Hello?” She spoke with a heavy French accent, which Will hadn't really expected. Even Hannibal's accent wasn't that thick.

“H-hey, I’m… Sorry to disturb you but I was wondering if Hannibal was around?” He blurted out, paling under the stranger’s perceived scrutiny. He vaguely wondered how she was related to Hannibal, if she was at all. He met a butler on the only other occasion he’d been to Hannibal’s home. This woman was far too elegant to be help, though. She was _royalty_.

“I believe he is in his room. He didn’t tell us he’d be having company.” She responded.

“It’s sort of a courtesy call-“ Will began. He needn’t have bothered.

“Will. You came.” A pleasant voiced from the stairs. Will’s gaze snapped to Hannibal, who looked exceptionally pleased. If he was surprised to see him, Will couldn’t tell. The brunette could hear his heart thumping in his throat, his ears. He broke the brief but intense eye contact, scratching the back of his hand rather than look at Hannibal.

 “Y-yeah, I… Um…” Maybe Hannibal had contacted him while his father was dragging him around Wal-Mart. The stranger’s scepticism seemed to vanish at Hannibal’s words and she stepped aside to let Will into her home.

“Come inside. You must be freezing.” She commented. She wasn’t wrong, Will stepping inside and eased off his tired old boots.  

“Thank you. It’s pretty chilly out there.” He voiced, still avoiding looking at Hannibal in any capacity.

“No problem. If you’ll excuse me, I was actually just about to retire.”

“Bonne nuit.” The woman smiled at the alpha, offering Will a final glance before she wandered up the stairs to bed. Will let his gaze drift to Hannibal, avoiding his face entirely. He settled his gaze on his chest, clad in a pyjama shirt that probably felt like heaven under skin. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Will?” Hannibal inquired, hearing the door to the master bedroom click shut.

“You don’t owe any pleasure. I… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come here. It’s late and I’m selfish.” Will sniffed. The fact he was aware that he was selfish had to count for something.

“No. Stay. I’d appreciate the company.” Will looked at Hannibal, who had this content little smile plastered to his features. “You must be freezing. Would you like something to warm you up?” Will nodded, tentatively.

“That’d be lovely… U-um, good of you, yeah. Don’t go out of your way.”

“I’d never dream of it, dear Will.”

He followed Hannibal into the kitchen, nervous. He didn’t like lurking in strangers houses. He didn’t really know what to do with himself, other than admire the décor and fiddle with whatever articles of clothing he had on.

They were silent, as Hannibal simmered milk, chocolate and cinnamon over a low heat on the stove.

“I got your message.” He admitted, breaking the silence and Will wished he hadn’t. “I’m assuming our encounter is the reason you’ve been avoiding me.”

“Something like that, I… I guess.” Will admitted, Hannibal pouring the chocolate into exceptionally beautiful mugs. “I’m… I’m really sorry. I’ve never done anything like that before, y’know. A-and I like you, I really do, I think you’re brilliant, for so many reasons but also I-” He trailed off, watching as the corners of Hannibal’s mouth twitched.

“There’s no need to explain, Will. I understand.” Hannibal pondered for a moment, setting the pot aside. “I really do value you, Will.” He eventually decided to voice, offering him the mug of cocoa, which Will graciously accepted.

“I… You too.” Will clucked his tongue, his face burning. He hated how he could never really outspeak Hannibal.

“Come with me. We can stare at the stars somewhere comfortable and you can tell me why exactly you’re wandering around the woods at two in the morning.”

They found themselves in a conservatory, lit dimly by orange light. It was a tasteful little structure, different to the Katz’s out of place. Will was quite sure he’d found the definition of comfort, safe in the exceedingly cosy confines of this little glass box. He had his knees tucked to his chest, Hannibal sat next to him, which was nice. No need to particularly look at him.

“Can I ask what happened?” Hannibal inquired, after enough time had passed for the silence to lose that awkward edge. 

“I fought with my Dad, told him a few home truths which, in hindsight was probably a bad idea.” Will admitted. “It was ridiculous. He’s ridiculous. It wasn't about me, though." Not exactly the biggest lie he'd ever told. The brunette wrapped both hands around his mug and inhaled the warmth.

“Did he hurt you?” Hannibal asked delicately. Will snorted.

“No. No, that’s not his style. I mean… My wrist hurts a little, I guess, he did tug me around a little.” He looked at his right wrist under the dim light, spotting purpling flesh.

“Will, that looks like it's bruising.” Hannibal sounded truly horrified. “He harmed you.”

“He didn’t mean to. Look, I’ll go home tomorrow and he’ll be all... Sweetness and light.” Will rested the mug on his lap, as Hannibal took his wrist, examining it carefully. Tenderly. He ran his fingers over Will's flesh and he felt like he was suddenly clay in Hannibal's hands. 

The feeling didn't last, though, not when Hannibal leaned in. Involuntarily, Will backed away.

“Hey, what are you-” Will began but Hannibal interrupted him. 

“Are you seeing somebody else?” He asked Will, frankly. Will was sure he could feel some bitterness in his voice.

“No, I’m not. And I'd appreciate it everybody stopped asking me about my romantic life and stopped smelling me!" The omega took his hand back, looking at Hannibal reproachfully.

The fact he couldn't properly empathise with Hannibal was one of the things he liked about him. He made judgements on how he was feeling by the subtleties of his expression. Which was normal and brilliant. For the first time since he'd met him, though, he could read everything running through Hannibal's head. He could empathise with him solely by staring at his expression, that mortified quiet that was sickness and regret. Will suddenly felt sick too. 

“You're pregnant." Hannibal tells him and in an instant Will's denial crumbles around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fic is a lot slower burn than I envisioned it being but I think it actually works pretty well. Thank you for all the love! I'm honestly surprised so many people are enjoying this. I wrote this because I love fics like this and I love Hannigram and there's really not enough teen!Hannigram. I didn't expect so many other people to enjoy it too.


	4. Chapter Four

“I think I knew.” Will admitted, his voice cracking into the looming silence that hung over the room “I felt weird. Different. Like… I didn’t feel sick or anything. I felt normal. But then I didn’t. Kinda hard to explain."

He was sat in Hannibal’s Bentley, in the parking lot of a nearby pharmacy. His gaze was locked on the two tiny pink lines on the little hunk set in front of him, the third pregnancy test he’d bought that day. To Hannibal's credit, he'd been the one to both pay and retrieve the test. He found himself completely shell-shocked by the discovery and when he didn’t feel like he was going to vomit his lungs up, he found himself weirdly annoyed that somebody of Hannibal’s age even had a Bentley. Hannibal’s age. Like he knew how old Hannibal fucking was. He didn’t even know old the father of his hypothetical child was.

“Maternal?” Hannibal asked and Will was quite sure he could hear feel a slight tremble in his voice.  “You’re can’t be far along enough to be having physical symptoms, yet.”

“You seem to know what’s up. Knocked up a lot of people in your time?” Will inquired. He’d gotten quite good at using humour to diffuse situations he found awkward, a knack he’d developed primarily by long exposure to Beverly.  His attempt at breaking the ice was incredibly misjudged, though. “Sorry. I don’t… Really know what to say.” His palms were clammy, lower lip instinctively trembling.

“There’s not all that much to say.” There was a lot, honestly. So much that needed to be said. But Will didn’t argue with him.

“I didn’t really understand how this happened. Which made it easier to play off as paranoia, I guess? I’m not sure.”

“Mistakes are a by-product of humanity. Nobody is faultless.” A little part of Will knew that was just Hannibal trying to rid some of the blame from himself.

“Are you mad at me?” He asked. It's not a genuine concern. Hannibal's not heartless to blame something that was primarily his fault on Will. If he did, well, Will had an excuse to snap. 

“This isn’t your fault. This is biology.” Hannibal paused, considering.“While I’m not exactly thrilled, this will impact you far more than it will impact me.” It’s incredibly blunt way of putting something as crushing as an unplanned, unwanted pregnancy but it’s the truth.  Will swallows. He feels protective of his own body and his stomach is in knots primarily because he’d smoked weed not twelve hours prior and he can’t help but panic. The tiny bundle of cells resting in his pelvis wasn’t even tangible and he was _worried_. Attached in an incredibly primal way to something that wasn’t even human yet.

“I’ll call the clinic, before I go to sleep.” He reasoned. The words don’t feel all that right in his mouth.

“I could call for you. You look exhausted.” Hannibal brushed his hand over Will’s, an action that made Will feel honestly worse. He didn’t pull away, though. Touch from the person who had impregnated him was comforting, in its own way.

“I am. Exhausted. I’m so exhausted, I’ve never been more exhausted in my entire life.” Will didn’t even have the energy to be upset.

“Is this what you want to do, Will? Maybe you’d like a few days to mull it over.”

“No. It’s not. I’d prefer not to be pregnant at all and to have never actually been pregnant. But the longer I leave it, the worst it’s gonna be.” That was what Will was finding the hardest. He had an empathy disorder. He couldn’t think of anything worse than having to empathise with his dead child. If he ended the pregnancy now, he’d be ending a concept. 

“There are other options.” For the first time since Hannibal had become suspicious, he sounded concerned for Will’s immediate welfare.

“I can nip this in the bud while I’m still a men’s small. Or, alternatively, I can let myself become a whale and then palm the kid on some couple who will either love it or be distantly resentful that it’s not theirs for the rest of their lives. Those are my options.”

“Have you considered the idea of us raising it?” It doesn’t sound that appealing an idea to Hannibal and that’s Will’s breaking point.

“I… I don’t even know you! God, you talked me through stuff I could’ve just looked up online, y-you told me I was pretty, we slept together one time and now you think we should get married or something?!”

“I said nothing about marriage. I was simply assuring you that if the alternatives are too hard, I’ll more than happily support you.” Hannibal is the image of serenity, in that moment. He doesn’t have any reason to be. And all it did was make Will angrier.

“Y’know what, I… I don’t need your support. We had sex _once_. I don’t even know your birthday, what kind of music you like, I’m not totally sure where you come from originally! We never dated, we were vaguely friends and then you seduced me and I went along with you because you’re attractive and I have no self-esteem. “ That’s not true. Will felt simmering guilt. He can’t believe how unlike him this anger is. But it’s there, just as tangible as the parts of himself and Hannibal that were intertwined inside of him. “Just go back to fucking Alana Bloom and leave me alone! And, just for the record, Heathcliff is insane and you’re screwed up for pitying him in any capacity!” He left the car, Hannibal offering no protest as he stormed from the parking lot.

He was so tired he could barely see, daggers in his chest at the enormously fucked up situation that he partially got himself into. All pregnancy had seemed to do was make him lose faith in humanity. He was alienating people by the second, wondering exactly how he’d end up losing Beverly’s friendship as he wandered down the street, still clad in the coat Hannibal had let him borrow.

Will Graham arrives home at ten-minutes past three in the morning. The front door is unlocked, an evident peace-offering by Nicholas Graham that doesn’t go unnoticed. Will’s too upset to be angry, though, the brunette slumping up the stairs and into his cold little bedroom, where he buries himself in his bedsheets with his muddied boots still on and sobs himself into a deep sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will is a hormonal shit and Hannibal is an apathetic bag of dicks.


	5. Chapter Five

“Can I name it?” Beverly joked over lunch. At least, Will hoped she was joking. The two were sat outside. It was cold and by extension quiet. Peaceful. That was really what Will needed at the moment. They were set against an accessible wall, where they would stay until next period.

“I haven’t even decided what I’m doing with it, yet.” Will responded over the taco he’d bought but didn’t want to eat. He didn’t think that this week could’ve gotten particularly worse for him but taco Thursday just made him want to die.

“I mean, if you _hypothetically_ birth the thing, can I name it?”

“Are we on hypotheticals?” Will asked.

“We are indeed. I mean, I’m not gonna not use hypotheticals and inadvertently coax you into keeping it. Who do I smoke with if you’re saddled with a small human?” It looked like a very genuine concern for Beverly, who was pouting slightly at the thought of losing Will to parenthood.

“Zeller?” Will suggested. Beverly offered him a pointed look.

“I’d end up killing him and you know it.”

“Maybe. If you did, I’d fight your corner.”

“I don’t think you’d be much good in court but you could totally vouch for me in the press. Character references are important.” She paused. “So, are we gonna discuss the potential spawn or-?”

“I don’t really want to talk about it.” Will admitted, after a slight pause.“I’ve given myself a week to pretend this isn’t happening and I’m planning to savour that week.”

“I don’t think that’s particularly healthy. I mean, cope how you wanna but avoidance behaviour is really fucking bad for your mental health.” Beverly slumped back against the wall, looking at Will.

“I don’t care. Look, babies are loud, expensive and I don’t really want one. I’m sixteen, I prefer the quiet and I buy my clothes from Goodwill. I was kinda hoping on getting my GED, y’know, going to college.” He closed his eyes, still tired events of Monday morning. "I’d rather have a dog than a baby.” He admitted, freely, bitterly.

“Who wouldn’t? I mean, babies are cute and stuff. For like the first year or so.”

“I think they look a little like rats when they’re first born. Shrivelled and curled up.” Will admitted.

“Some of them do. Some of them are really sweet, though.”

“I didn’t know you had the maternal touch, Bev.”

“I’m full of surprises. Or maybe I’m just mooching off your maternal hormones.” She paused. “Who’s the daddy?”

“I… Fuck, you know those rich French people that moved here in like, February? Their son.”

“Shit, I know the guy! Robert Lecter! He’s famous! I’m pretty sure they’re technically royalty and fuck, Will, they’re fucking _loaded_!”

“I figured that. I mean, their house is really nice. Why is this guy famous?”

“He’s a painter. Massively celebrated throughout Europe. My Mom’s _way_ into artistry.” She dismissed, staring at Will with awe. “Christ, Graham, how did you seduce somebody so affluent? The only rich person I’ve ever managed to convince I was fuckable lived on a pig farm.”

“He seduced me. Don’t ask me why.”                                                              

“Oh, shut up. You’re really cute. And you’re a male omega. Alphas go crazy for male omegas.” Will snorted at Beverly’s words.

“That was almost flattering. Almost.” He replied, Beverly smiling knowingly.

“Ah, shit, I’ve seen the younger guy that lives with Robert and his wife a few times. If it’s any consolation, your kid's gonna be gorgeous. Like, model-gorgeous.” It wasn’t consolation. It made Will feel sick. He set his tray aside, knees together and arms wrapped around his legs.  
  
“I can’t keep this kid. I can't abort it, though. It’s… It’s not that I don’t agree with it, it’s just not something I think my mind would react well to me doing.” He admitted, his voice hollow. “If I’d been dating Hannibal, I’d be a little more willing to maybe keep it, maybe put it up for adoption. It just would've been easier. But we’re not dating. Fuck, I told him that I just wanted to be his friend because I didn’t feel like I knew him enough like an hour before we found out I was pregnant.”

“He knows?”

“He knows. He offered to give me support without meaning a word of it. So I snapped at him and he hasn’t contacted me since.” Hannibal had probably meant what he’d said, or at least planned to stand by it.

“He’s just as much of a kid as you are, I suppose.”

“I don’t want to do anything that’s going to inconvenience him. My Dad once told me this … Story, about his sister when he was steaming drunk. She got pregnant by her ex-boyfriend when she was eighteen and she kept the baby just to spite him. He was an athlete who could’ve gone pro and she trapped him into marrying him. Imagine doing something like that. Imagine that being your family's perception of you.” Will replied, sullenly.

“If you kept this baby, it wouldn’t be to spite Lecter. It would be because you have a disorder that makes you empathise with everything that has any humanity. It’s unfair that you should have to traumatise yourself, potentially for life, just to avoid being inconvenient. I’m assuming the sex was a mutual decision. Why should you have all the inconvenience, all the hurt?” Will blinked at Beverly. 

"I didn't really think about it like that." He confessed, slowly.

“People don’t tend to. Look, you don’t have to make any decisions right now, whatever you believe. You have options. Yes, it might be nice of you to factor in the biological father of your kid when you make your decision, especially if you’re expecting him to support you financially or emotionally. But if you don’t, dude, it’s your body.” She paused to take a sip off her soda. “This could be your becoming. A situation that changes the way you see the world, or the way the world sees you. Like a bad breakup or a really intense trip.”

“I don’t want it to be. Honestly. I don’t want to pin my maturity on an unwanted pregnancy. That’s so cliché.”

“It totally is. Will, this isn't ideal, but it's gonna get better. A-and I’m aware that I said that before, but… For reals this time.”

“I guess.” Will twiddled his thumbs.

It was raining by the time the school day finished. Will didn’t have a hood on his jacket, using his backpack as admittedly a rather poor source of shelter. By the time he stumbled through the doorway, he was soaked to the bone and shivering. He immediately rounded the stairs to his bedroom, stripping out of his clothes which were discarded in the washing basket. He changed into pyjamas, a printed shirt that was far too large and a pair of checkered pants. Drying his hair disinterestedly with a towel, he grabbed a packet of ramen, oriental flavour. It eluded him as to what oriental flavour exactly was but it tasted good. Will’s favourite memories, the ones that weren’t somehow tied to fishing, generally involved a big bowl of instant ramen layered heavily with cheese and Saturday morning cartoons. He grabbed a bowl and boiled the kettle, spotting a note from his father tacked to the fridge.

 _bringing home food. prob back around 5_  
_hope u have a good day_  
_pop_

Will clucked his tongue. He hadn’t spoken to his father properly in days, figuring a takeout they couldn’t really afford was just a front to talk about the baby they really couldn’t afford. He eyed up the ramen, opening the packet anyway because he hadn’t eaten properly since breakfast. If he filled himself up, though, he wouldn’t be hungry later. He sighed, settling on a can of soda. The can was set aside when he heard a firm knock at the door. Will furrowed his brow. They rarely had visitors. He shuddered, vaguely recalling the few visits from the repossession company that took his Gameboy when they weren’t even a thing anymore.

When he opened the door, the smallest part of him wished it had been the repo-company who he occasionally had nightmares about. Hannibal Lecter, looking rather morose, was stood on his doorstep, clad in a duffle coat and holding a black umbrella over his head. 

“Hello, Will.” He voiced, staring intently at his face.

“Hey.” Will didn’t look at him, sticking his hands in his shirt and looking away. “Did you need something?” He inquired, vaguely wondering how Hannibal knew where to find him.

“I wanted to apologise. My reaction wasn’t at all justifiable and I feel extremely guilty.” There was more to it than that, Will knew it.

“I’m… Thanks, I guess. I’m sorry too.” He looks at Hannibal, his umbrella, the pouring rain and feels the cold drifting into his home. Will shivered, stepping aside.“Come in.” He offered, Hannibal stepping into Will’s home.

They find themselves sat together, on the tattered old sofa that had been seen more of America than Hannibal had. It was Hannibal who broke the ice, the alpha reaching into his bag and handing Will a book.

“A peace-offering, if you’ll accept it.” Hannibal voiced.  It was a strange offering, Will handled the thing delicately, running his hand over the cover, a painting of three rather sad looking women. “It’s a book about the lives of the Brontë sisters. I find them infinitely more intriguing than the character’s they created.” For the first time in a while, Will found himself genuinely smiling.

“Thanks. That’s really thoughtful.” Will set the book on his lap.

“It’s an exceptional read. Biographies aren’t really my taste, they’re too scandalous and prying for my liking. This is probably the only one I’ve ever read that actually gave me a deeper understanding of these author’s psyches and by addition their creations.” He paused, looking at Will, who was drumming the pads of his fingers lightly upon the book. “I understand your misgivings, Will. For the record, I’m seventeen years old and I was born in Lithuania, though I’ve spent a great deal of my life in France. I enjoy classical music and I have ambitions of becoming a surgeon.”

“A surgeon?” Will inquired.

“A surgeon. It’s always been a very alluring career path.” Hannibal confessed.

“I’ll probably just end up back at the shipyards.” Will admitted. “I’d like to help people. Maybe. My Dad seems to think my... Condition, would make me helpful.”

“Your empathy?” Hannibal paused. “It would make you a commodity in law enforcement." 

“H-how did you know about my- Did we discuss it?” They hadn’t. He hadn’t particularly wanted Hannibal to know about his stranger side. Hannibal’s expression didn’t flicker.

“You spoke a librarian, before we were even on speaking terms. Both your voice and demeanour changed to fit hers. It was remarkable. So I simply assumed.”

“You assumed right.” Will responded, stiffy.

“This gift would make an abortion potentially rather difficult for you. I would like to avoid this being traumatic, for either of us. I don't believe we deserve it.” Hannibal is choosing his words rather carefully.

“I appreciate your concern. I’m not ready for a child, though. And neither are you. I mean, maybe when you’re making brain surgeon bucks.” Like money was a concern for Hannibal.

“I have a proposal for you.” Hannibal began, the real reason he came, Will knew. “I’ve discussed this situation with my uncle and his wife; I hope you’re comfortable with that. They always wanted children, it simply never happened for them. If you were willing to have this child, they would be willing to care for it. While it would be their child, we’d both be able to be an intricate part of their life. They would apply for permanent citizenship in the States so they could care for it.”

“T-they’d… What, like adoption?” Will asked. He could barely find the words, palms clammy.

“Perhaps a bit more informal. But yes, that’s the general idea.” He paused. “Consider it, maybe.” Will would. And Hannibal knew it.


	6. Chapter Six

Will didn’t really have any particularly formal clothes. His father looked smarter than he did. The difference was astounding, Will thought. Nicholas Graham, a man who spent the majority of his life lurking in trucker bars and covered in motor oil was now clean-shaven and donning a surprisingly vivid blue dress shirt. Will was in his usual getup, sneakers, jeans and a t-shirt, the only first-hand piece of clothing he owned. The only immediate difference in his appearance was that he’d brushed his hair. He’d made an attempt at an effort, he guessed.

“How are you feeling? Better?” Nicholas asked, looking fleetingly at his son.

“Yeah. I think I got it out of my system.” Will had spent the last few weeks sparingly vomiting up anything that wasn’t crackers, plain noodles or stale toast. It was a miserable existence. He’d gone to Wendy’s with Beverly and Brian the previous weekend and thrown up at the mere sight of a burger. His father had unhelpfully told him about his mother’s experience with morning sickness throughout the whole ordeal.

“Could’ve made more of an effort then, kid. You’re meeting your in-laws, after all.” His father laughed, Will pursing his lips and grabbing a handful of his shirt.

“They’re _not_ my in-laws. I’m not even with Hannibal.” Will’s nostrils flared a little at the admission. He grabbed a handful of his shirt, gesturing to it. “Is it the shirt? It’s a bit too much.” It was the nicest one he owned, which said a lot. He had a couple of old sweaters that probably would’ve looked better. They were constricting and Max had taken decent chunks out of them before Will realised what he’d been up to.

“You could say that. But mostly the jeans. Did you run them through a shredder?” Nicholas joked.

“I’m not gonna lie to these people. Pretend I’m something I’m not. Their kid might have a genetic disposition to gravitate towards eighties comic icons and I think that’s something they should be aware of.”

“More than the mental health issues, your general awkwardness, the shitty taste in music…?” Nicholas inquired.

“My taste in music is a credit to you. If we’d stayed in Louisiana it’d probably be ninety-nine present country-folk and gospel.”

“No kid of mine would ever listen to gospel music. I’m having flashbacks just thinking about that shit. Grandma Lorna used to blast it like it was hip-hop.” Will imagined his eighty-five year old grandmother listening to rap, the corner of his mouth curling into a smile.

They parked outside the Lecter-Murasaki home, Nicholas gazing at the home with a distant longing. Will was vaguely reminded of the house where he was born and spent his early childhood. The similar white paintwork, though far less cracked, and the ivy that ran up the walls. He pattered his father shoulder and Nicholas eased his arm around Will’s slender shoulder. He led his child to the door, Will’s smile at the tenderness remaining even when the door opened. An older man, who looked rather like Hannibal smiled at his guests. Will blinked at him. He was dressed in a colourful, almost luridly so, suit. Will felt extremely underdressed all of a sudden. 

“Good afternoon. You must be William.”

“Just Will. You’re Count Lecter, right?”

“I don’t much care for the title. Call me Robert.” He reached out a hand to shake Will’s. His touch was firm but soft, sort of like Hannibal’s. “And you must be Mr. Graham.”

“Nick. Nice to meet you.” Nicholas smiled and shook Robert’s hand firmly but his eyes are wandering around the entryway. He’s seeking out Hannibal.

“Please don’t make a scene.” He whispered, Nicholas letting the arm that he set around his son slip as he laid eyes on somebody he primally knew to be the only other male alpha in the house. Hannibal and the woman who had greeted him on that fateful night weeks prior were stood ready to greet their guests. Hannibal smiled at Will, the kind of smile that set Will’s heart aflutter and reddened his cheeks. He was so taken by the smile that he didn’t realize, even when their brief eye-contact was broken, Hannibal was making an obvious attempt to blank Will’s father.

“Lovely to see you, Will.” Hannibal said and God could Will feel the joy in his words. “How are you feeling?”

“A little better. I managed to eat some dry cereal last night. Moving on up in the world.” Will smiled, looking to his father. “Dad, this is Hannibal. Hannibal, this is my Dad.”

“Hannibal, huh? That’s unusual.” Nicholas sniffed. The tension could’ve been cut with a knife. 

“Not really.” Hannibal replied, looking Nicholas in the eye. Nicholas was rather tall, bearing a reasonable amount of bulk, enough to make him look like somebody that you wouldn’t really want to cross. Hannibal was perhaps the only person, sands Will’s grandmother, who looked completely unthreatened by Nicholas. It was jarring.

“Are you suffering from pregnancy nausea?” Murasaki inquired, breaking the tension by addressing Will.

“Y-yeah, actually, I am. It’s not been the best couple of weeks.” Will admitted sheepishly.

“God, I had no idea. Are there any particular foods that you can’t stomach, Will?” Robert sounded embarrassed, the thought that Will’s current condition might’ve him unwell having apparently not occurred to him.

“It’s fine. I wouldn’t want to be a bother.” Hannibal’s mouth twitched at the corners, as though he’s ready to fight Will’s corner for no reason at all.

“It’s no bother. I could ask that something else is prepared for you, something lighter, perhaps?” Robert offered.

“I’d appreciate that.” Will smiled tentatively at Robert.

They were all sat in the dining room, a variety of alcohol being gradually pumped out by Robert, who was evidently quite the people-person. Will felt bad for them, almost angry by the perceived waste. They were waiting on a family of three, no children, no animals, three adults. There was no perception necessary. It was wasteful.

There were awkward attempts made at conversation that couldn’t even be saved by Robert Lecter’s undeniable charisma or the wine that flooded the table. 

“Do you know when you’re due, Will?” Robert asked the brunette, after conversing with Nicholas about the state of North American shipyards seemed to begin to bore him.

“Not yet. I have my dating sonogram on Tuesday, so we’ll know then.”

“Lovely. That’s the first scan, isn’t it?”

“I think so?  I've not had one before so like, I guess. I don’t really know much about this whole thing. I’m just doing what the doctor tells me to.”

“I didn’t know you had a sonogram next week, Will.” Hannibal interjected the slightest trace of meditated hurt in his voice.

“I… I didn’t think it was that big a deal.” Will confessed. Nicholas rolled his eyes and Hannibal sniffed into his wine glass. 

The plates were ladened with venison. Venison was a meat that Will usually adored, that reminded him of childhood dinners with his extended family. Now he found himself visibly gagging at the very sight of the meat. Hannibal ran a reassuring hand down his back. Will didn't really like to be touched, especially when he felt unwell, but Hannibal's touch 

“Are you okay?” He whispered, brushing Will’s hair behind his ear.

“Y-yeah, yeah… Sorry, I just feel a bit…” He coughed again, Hannibal’s brow furrowing.

“No, don’t apologise. Meeting over dinner while you’re this early in your pregnancy perhaps wasn’t the best idea.” It definitely hadn’t been Hannibal’s. The table fell silent, Murasaki standing abruptly.

"Come with me, Will." She offered, gently. Will could only do as she said, offering Hannibal a confused look as he stood.

The woman lead Will into the kitchen, as empty and elegant as it had been the morning Will had found out he was pregnant. He was sat by Murasaki at the breakfast table. 

“My Mother had horrific morning sickness when she was expecting my brothers. The mere smell of food would make her very unwell. I remember fish being a particular pressure point.” Murasaki admitted, tenderly. She handed Will a cup of hot water, the scent of ginger wafting to his face, making his eyes water. “She swore by ginger and peppermint tea. She would have the help make it for her before she’d even gotten out of bed and the house would smell of it every morning when I awoke. Naturally, it’s very comforting, even when I am not nauseated.”

“Thank you. This is really nice of you.” Will trembled, curling into himself rather pitifully. 

“You’re giving us the gift of life. It’s the least I can do.”

“You’re up for this?” There's been no direct conversation about the baby's fate, the Lecter-Murasaki's willingness to care for it. He knew, of course, that the dinner in itself was a formality, a civilised front to discuss the child. Yet there's been no confirmation and Will couldn't help but worry. 

“Completely. I have always wanted to be a mother but motherhood has never wanted me.” Murasaki admitted. Will’s heart twinged a little, as it dawned on him that she was very likely an alpha. Murasaki didn’t seem to notice his flickering expression. “Hannibal is a sweet boy. I never considered taking another child as my own until he came into my life. I would more than happily take his child into my life as my own. Without a doubt. I could very easily love a part of that boy.” She paused, smiling at him. “I can see why Hannibal is so enchanted.”   

“Enchanted?” Will attempted to probe, cheeks reddening.

“He’s extremely taken by you. I’ve never really seen him show interest in anything that wasn’t in some way an artistic pursuit. Yet here you are, somebody who he seems genuinely taken by.” Will smiled awkwardly, his heart aflutter.

“That’s really... Nice, I guess?" Will looked away, considering his reply before looking Murasaki in the eye.  “Thank you. Truly. For everything. You have no idea how much you’re doing for us.” He took a sip of the gingery liquid settled in his grasp, his stomach instantly calmed, though he's not quite sure if it's the tea. Murasaki is beautiful, loving and in an instant Will knew he was making the right decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Murasaki was the only redeeming part of Hannibal Rising, in my eyes. She's a wonderful character and naturally had to have an important role in this fic.


	7. Chapter Seven

“You don’t have to come in with me. If you don’t want to.” Will ran the pads of his fingers over the back of his hand, his gaze flickering to Hannibal. He was a lot more jittery than usual. Clinical environments were possibly the worst kind of environment he could be exposed to. The smell of disinfectant, the tapping of a keyboard made the room spiral.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Hannibal looked Will up and down. “I don’t particularly feel comfortable letting you go in alone. You don’t look very well.” He rested a the back of his hand upon Will’s forehead, then his shoulder.

“I don’t feel very well. Not sick, though. I think it’s just anxiety.” Will’s gaze flickered to the floor. “I… Don’t know, maybe it would be better if only one of us got attached.” Will wasn’t all that sure if that was the primary reasoning.

“I’m already attached. Primal instinct facilitates attachment to the unborn.” Hannibal explained, seemingly resigned to his fate.

“There’s plenty of deadbeat Dads in the world who don’t seem to give a shit.” Will argued. “It’s practically the norm, isn’t it?”

“I think it’s less about them giving a shit and more about them panicking at the idea of that sort of pressure. You’ll find the majority of those men will be betas, too. Alphas are hardwired to care for their young from conception onwards.”

“So is that why I’m sat waiting for a sonogram, bladder full to bursting when I could be in class? Because of your primal attachment?” Will snorted, crossing his arms. Hannibal smiled kindly.

“Yes. This child’s life is the combination of both mine and your primal attachments.” He admitted with ease. Will sniffed, at that. It was very true but a part of him wished that wasn’t the case. He met eyes with a doctor, making to stand before the man called for a Louise Hobbs, the brunette slumping back into his chair.

“Whatever. I just wanna get this over with.”

“Will Graham?” A monotone voice sniffed. A middle-aged woman with a rather stern face scanned the waiting room. Will stood up rather abruptly.

“I’m Jacqueline, the sonographer. Is this your friend? If he is, he’ll have to wait outside. I’m afraid it’s policy.” Will was scruffy, at the heart of it, masses of untamed hair and tattered clothing. Comparatively, Hannibal was the opposite of him, neat and well presented. He genuinely cared about his presentation. Assumptions were bound to be made. Still, it upset Will more than he was willing to say. Yet another reminder that he wasn’t worthy of Hannibal.

“No, I’m the father.” Hannibal corrected without hesitation. “Hannibal Lecter. It’s a pleasure.” He offered her his hand, the woman less than politely declining.

“If you’ll both come with me. We’re in room four.” She led the two into a small room, ushering Will onto the bed. She sat herself in front of the ultrasound machine, Hannibal closing the door behind them, his coat hanging from his arm. Will sat himself hesitantly upon the

“Your notes say you’re assumed to be about ten to eleven weeks, is that correct?”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m here. My physician said this was routine.” Will tapped his legs, tensing.

“It is. Did they explain the purpose of this check-up?” She asked. Will shook his head.

“No. She just told me to make sure I had a full bladder.” He clucked his tongue, obviously extremely nervous.  
  
“Primarily, this is to make sure the baby is developing and work out when you’re due. It’ll also tell us if you’re having multiples.”  Will couldn’t help the disdain that dripped onto his face at the idea of more than one child. “Could you lay down and lift up your shirt for me, Will?” Will did as he was told, scooting properly onto the bed and laying back. He had rather vivid memories of dentist’s offices and it didn’t exactly serve to calm his nerves.

As if by queue, Hannibal, who had sat himself next to Will, ran a tentative hand through his hair. It was more than he’d usually do, too cautious of overstepping the many boundaries Will had seemingly put up. Will let him because he could barely breathe, acutely aware of the cold gel being applied to his pelvis. He couldn’t properly place the fear, the crippling anxiety at the mere idea of seeing a being that was still technically a concept. Jacqueline pressed the camera to his pelvis, using it to rub in the exceptionally cold gel. Will shivered.

He didn’t particularly want to look at the screen. It took a few moments of staring at the ceiling, the plastic of the ultrasound machine- just anything that wasn’t actually the machine for his head to twig before Hannibal’s hand slid down, the touch signifying something more than there being no need for Will to be comforted anymore. It was telling him to _look_.

“There we go.” Her voice audibly lightened such an obvious change in demeanour. It’s soothing. And Will looks.

The screen is grey, less graphic than he’d expected it to be for some reason. His gaze settled upon a little, squirming creature. A head that completely out proportioned what was visible of the tiny creature’s body, two tiny hands and feet. It was visibly human and that was what struck Will the most. When he’d decided to keep the child, to give it away, it hadn’t been much of a person. Now it was. His child, his tangible, real child.

“Wow.” Will swallowed. It didn’t exactly summarise the joy, the dread, the cacophony of emotion flowing through him.

“A lot of the people I see tell me that this is the one that grounds them. Seeing their child.” Jacqueline offered Will a stiff smile.

“I can see why.” Will voiced. It put an entirely new perspective on the situation, in his eyes. He looked to Hannibal, desperate to leech off any emotion he could feel. He had to feel something definitive in the train wreck of emotion. While the wide-eyed awe that Hannibal was displaying, like a child beholding the world for the first time was admittedly comforting, he couldn’t really leach on it. Will turned back to the

“It looks healthy, limbs measure up well, head is decently sized. I’d offer to let you hear its heartbeat but the speakers on this unit stopped in this morning.” She bit back a smile. “Bad timing. Would you like to take a picture? They’re free, but we do have a donation box out front, if you’re so inclined.”

“Could we perhaps have two?” Hannibal inquired, the first thing he’d said some time.

“Of course.” She examined the two, pulling the instrument from Will’s stomach. The image of his child was gone, in a blink of an eye.

Sometime later, they were sat in Hannibal’s car, Will examining the two sonogram photographs in the glint of the sun and a definitive due date of mid-August. A summer baby.

“I somehow feel worse than I did before I went in.” Will admitted, after a moment.

“If it makes you feel any better, I’m also feeling quite overwhelmed.” Hannibal concurred, though he certainly didn’t look it.“Seeing our child was perhaps the most conflicting experience I’ve ever had. Beautiful yet terrifying. I’m not sure words quite give it justice.” Will knew what he meant. “The technician was rather rude.” Hannibal added airily, Will smiling, running his hand through his hair.

“That she was. Still, if it hadn’t been for her change of tone, I wouldn’t have looked at it. The baby. Whatever…” He stiffened. “I’ve seen it, but it doesn’t… Still doesn’t feel real? I don’t think it’s going to feel real until it’s born and kind of scary.” There were tremors in his voice, threats of tears.

“I know.” Hannibal took Will’s hand. The omega didn’t oppose.

“What happens if I can’t give it up? I-I can’t lead your family along if I have doubts, t-that would be so cruel. I know how much your aunt wants this kid, m-more than I do, b-but what if it’s born and it’s there and I can’t let it go?” Will had begun to cry, gulpy tears that were born from anxiety rather than genuine sadness.

“Then you can’t give it up. This is an anxiety, Will, with no crux. If you don't want to give up this child, you'll have support." 

"My Dad would kill me if I kept it. We can barely afford our water bill this mouth, how are we supposed to support another person? W-we can barely support ourselves and a small animal that eats more mice than it does cat food." Will rambled. Hannibal turned to face Will, taking his wrists carefully into his grasp and turning to face Will.

"You're panicking. You have no reason to panic. You have me, Will."

"No I don't." Will sounded almost bitter, below the hysterics. 

"Yes, you do. You will always have me. Whether you want to keep this child or not, as long as it's on this earth, it will bond us together." Will looked away, Hannibal considered. "I'm in love with you, Will Graham." He confessed, bluntly.

"No you're not. You think you're in love with me because I'm carrying your child." Will sobbed. That was what he truly believed. 

"I loved you before there was a child, Will."

"But you don't even know me! Y-you can't love somebody without knowing then! You don't know my birthday, any of my hobbies, y-you don't know... Me. You really don't." Hannibal smiled.

"I know quite enough. I don't have to know what you like to love you." Hannibal replied. "Conversely, you don't have to know what I like to admit that you love me." Will looked at Hannibal, dead in the eye.

"How do you..." He leant forward, pressing tentative lips to Hannibal. The kiss was immediately deepened, Hannibal cupping Will's face delicately. Will closed his eyes, his tears having yet quelled, the last of the moisture running down Hannibal's fingers. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, some Hannigram! Seven chapters later, I might add.  
> Thank you for the continued support of my stupid little fic.


	8. Chapter Eight

Will was curled next to Hannibal, his head on his chest, listening to the thump of the older teen’s heartbeat. It was a constant rhythm that never seemed to really dwindle.

The two were settled within the confines of Will’s room and had been for some time. It smelt of damp and cat hair, nothing like the heavenly fragrances that filled the Lecter-Murasaki home. The wallpaper was peeling away, covered awkwardly by posters that were fraying at the edges and various glossy pictures of dogs that Will had cut from magazines. He was acutely aware of how little his little home compared to Hannibal’s, something that might perhaps have made Will feel self-conscious. Yet Will was possibly more relaxed than he’d ever been in Hannibal’s presence. Going by the beats of his heart, Hannibal was calm, too. He was certainly content. They’d not really spoken much since they’d gotten back from the hospital, so Will wouldn’t have known.

They’d certainly kissed, these long drawn out kisses that weren't as much titillating as they were honest. They said everything that Will could not. It hadn’t gone any further than kissing, besides Hannibal’s wandering hands, it hadn’t even threatened to go that far.  The silence didn’t have that uncomfortable edge that their usual silences they tended to have, which held a magnificently heavy consistency. This silence was comfortable and enveloped the two of them in its peaceful embrace. Well, three of them now, Will presumed.

“Are you falling asleep?” Will dared to ask, big blue eyes peering up at Hannibal. He wouldn’t have exactly damned Hannibal for it. The day was ticking on, afternoon had rapidly become evening which had naturally transcended into a cold winter night. Hannibal’s lips curled at the edges.

“Certainly not.” He remarked, opening his eyes to gaze lovingly down at Will

“So you’re just… Being odd?” Will concurred.

“I’m very odd, Will, exceptionally odd. As are you. It's why we work very well together." Will chose not to reply to that particular statement. 

“A shared oddness? I don’t think you’re oddness is comparable to mine.”

“ _Our_ shared oddness, Will. And I can assure you it is.” Hannibal corrected and Will grinned to himself.

“God, our poor kid.” He bemoaned. “Here’s hoping your aunt and uncle will squash all the weirdness from it.” Hannibal’s smile fell very hesitantly at the words but picked up rather rapidly.  
  
“No doubt they will. Though they do have their eccentricities. There’s no such thing as blanket normalcy.” He replied.  
  
“Well, they’re rich people. Rich people tend to be kinda odd. By poor people standards. I mean, they eat fish eggs. It's like the grossest part of a fish and it's a delicacy. You can literally do so much with a fish; you can basically eat every part of it. Why eat its young?” Will rambled. It was a particularly frustrating topic for the omega.   
“Like, Dad always encouraged me to empty my plate but I doubt even he would’ve ever made me eat fish eggs. And we’ve been in some real dire financial situations.”  
  
“Caviar is extracted from the fishes ovaries. The eggs aren’t fertilised, so how is it different from eating flesh?” Hannibal asked. Will huffed.

“It’s just crazy.” He voiced. Hannibal knocked their heads together lightly.  
“Totally something a deranged serial killer would do. Totally. I bet it’s been done, cannibalistic serial killer eats reproductive organs. Ugh, why am I thinking about that, I’m gonna makes myself barf.” He gagged a little, a concerned hand running through his hair.

“Don’t think about it, then. Has your sickness not improved?"  
  
“Not really.” Will admitted, closing his eyes. "I mean, I… Can sort of eat, now. Really just dry Krave and Cheeto sandwiches.” Hannibal grimaced and Will saw this. “Not together.” He explained, quickly.

“Are you taking your prenatal vitamins?” He asked, concerned. Will nodded.

“Yeah. And I’m drinking a _ton_ of orange juice. Dad also makes me take fish oil which is fucking vile but it’s apparently good for me. And the sprog, so, y’know, I’m not totally unhealthy.” He fidgeted a little, feeling exceptionally guilty under Hannibal’s scrutiny. He was feeding his child garbage, after all.

“It’s temporary. Morning sickness tends to clear up around the second trimester, from what I’ve read.” Hannibal assured.

“Fucking better… Hurry it up. I miss- … Food.” The omega was about to proclaim his undying adoration for McDonald’s chicken nuggets soaked in honey mustard sauce. He refrained, assuming Hannibal might not exactly approve of his plan to feed their child even more junk the moment his ability to eat had returned.

“It won’t be long.” Hannibal fell silent, Will scooting up a little on the bed and closing his eyes, listening to Hannibal’s soft breathing. He tensed up a little, glaze fluttering to Hannibal’s relaxed face hesitantly as he considered.

“Hey, Hannibal…?” Will eventually found the courage to muster asking his question."You didn’t... Hook up with Alana Bloom, a-after us, did you?” He asked, eyeing Hannibal up nervously. He regretted asking the moment the words left his mouth.

“’Hook up’?” The alpha replied, clearly bemused. Will fussed with the buttons of Hannibal's dress shirt, paling. 

“L-like, date, I don’t know. I saw you together, more than once."

“I actually haven’t seen Alana socially since I found out you were expecting.” Hannibal admitted. “No, Will. I did not ‘hook up’ with her. Her mother goes to the same church as my uncle, so naturally we crossed paths. She needed some assistance, I helped. We’re friendly.” Hannibal pecked Will’s forehead. “Nothing to worry about. I’ve been smitten with you since the moment I laid eyes on you. As lovely as Alana may be, she's not exactly comparable.” Will blushed, evading Hannibal’s gaze.

“W-what where you helping her with?” Will asked, keen to change the subject from Hannibal's incessant doting and by extension his jealousy. 

“Her peacocks.” Hannibal confessed. Will’s expression dropped.

“Is that a euphemism?” He asked, suspiciously.

“No, genuinely. She recently acquired two male peacocks. They kept fighting over territory. We had a few peacocks in France. Gorgeous, ridiculous creatures. So I gave her some advice on how to best  deal with them.” Hannibal ran a hand through Will’s hair, laughing softly.

“She keeps peacocks? Man…” Will rolled atop of Hannibal’s chest, settled comfortably between Hannibal’s leg.

“Each to their own.” Hannibal pecked Will’s forehead, his lips lingering. Will tilted his head back, lapping up the attention.

“So… I guess we’re dating now?” He asked, after Hannibal eventually pulled away. 

“No. We’re married.” Hannibal teased, winking at Will, who paled.

“W-what?” Had he inadvertently signed something during an anxiety attack?

“We’re expecting a child and we’ve only just admitted we have feelings for each other. It makes perfect sense to marry before we start dating.” Hannibal shrugged. Will attempted to look annoyed, furrowing his brow but he was smiling. 

“You’re not at all funny, you know that?”


	9. Chapter Nine

One of the many things that eluded Will about his current condition was how just how normal things seemed to have remained. Despite the fact he was carrying a small human inside him; his reality was still relatively the same as it had been before the baby, even before Hannibal. He was still carpooling to school with Beverly, he still had homework, he ate lunch in the cafeteria and everything was really quite normal. Will was actually grateful, in a sense. The normalcy was enough to help him forget about how messy his current situation was.  
  
“I’m still super offended you didn’t invite me to see my future godchild in utero, y’know.” Beverly voiced over her lunch. The Heavens had torn asunder earlier that morning, so Beverly and Will’s usual tradition of sneaking their trays behind the gym and talking for the entirety of their lunch hour had dissipated.

“If Hannibal hadn’t come along, I would’ve called you. You didn't miss much, really.” Will replied, sipping aimlessly on his soda. “Besides, it’s not your godchild. It’s not even really my kid.”

“Of course. From what I’ve heard, you’re just the rent-a-womb.” Brian piped up, sipping at this bottle of chocolate milk he always got that Will had enjoyed when he was eight. Beverly rolled her eyes.

“Probably a better term for what I’m doing than being a rent-a-womb. That implies a level of surrogacy was involved.” While Will played it off as annoyance, Brian’s words stung a little, mostly considering the fact that Will wasn’t Robert and Murasaki’s surrogate. Though he was rarely touchy about his plans for his child, the kid would always inherently be part of Will and Hannibal, even if it was raised by mountain gorillas. That was important to Will.  
                                                                                                                 
“Well, you’re cooking up the spawn to just pawn it off on a couple of rich people. Look, whatever. All this baby talk is giving me war flashbacks to my mom’s last pregnancy.” Brian shuddered.  
  
“God, I remember when my mom was pregnant with Marie. Fucking horrendous for everybody involved. Times a hundred, considering that, y’know, she literally birthed the Antichrist.” Beverly eyed Will up. “You’ve been a very serene pregnant, comparatively. I mean, maybe a smidgen of extra anxiety mixed into the usual Graham formula but-“ Will snorted, interrupting her.

“You’re kidding? Somebody cut in line at the store last week and I really wanted to… Bite their nose.” Will looked a little mortified. It really had been that specific. Worst still, he’d seen himself doing it. He shuddered a little.

“Wow.” Brian settled his soda on the table, looking as though he was imagining a feral Will attacking a poor defenceless woman in the middle of Wal-Mart.

“That’s a pregnant thing? I already get that.” Beverly admitted with a smile.

“So, for the record, whoever gets Beverly pregnant in the future will have basically created a psychopathic killer.”  
  
“Well, nobody is going to get me pregnant because I decide when I procreate.” Beverly narrowed her eyes and Brian sunk into himself a little.

“Okay, okay. Though, if it was that easy, we wouldn’t be expecting Graham-whatever-his-name-is junior.”

“Hannibal.” Will corrected. Brian boggled slightly.

“What the fuck kind of name is Hannibal?”  
  
“A really common one?” Beverly replied.

“Whatever you say, Bev. Jesus…” Brian looked at Will, shaking his head. “So I assume you and this… Hannibal dude are dating now? Like, actually dating as opposed to just… Well, fucking.” Will glared at him. “What, dude, you’re pregnant by the guy so unless he’s God and the saviour is lingering in your pelvis, you’ve gotta have fucked at some point.”

“We’re taking things slowly.” Will took a long sip of his soda, pursing his lips. It wasn’t a lie. Though they’d spent an exceedingly large amount of time together since Hannibal had declared his love for Will, perhaps more time together in the two weeks they’d officially been dating than they ever had,  there was a mutual understanding that their relationship needed to be developed upon.  
  
“Well, as slowly as you can, considering you’re already kinda pregnant” Beverly pitched in, Will blinking at her.

“You’re supposed to be on my side.” He sounded betrayed.  
  
“Aw, c’mon, I am. So… He wasn’t messing around with that  chick afterall, huh?” Beverly smiled knowingly.  
  
“Alana? No. They’re friends. I jumped to conclusions.” He’d been wrong. He rarely jumped to conclusions without evidence. Pregnancy had made him do that rather a lot.  
  
“So you literally… Ah, you’re wonderful, Will.” Beverly snickered.

They sat and ate for some more time. As strange as Will’s friendship was with Brian, he did value it. Not as much as he valued Beverly, of course, he doubted he’d never again have a friend who he cared for with as much ferocity as he did Beverly Katz but Brian was mean without being mean-spirited. He did care, above the bravado. Will knew that much. It was mutual.

Their trays deposited in the cafeteria, they wandered to linger outside the art classroom until the bell signifying the end of their lunch period rang. It wasn’t as if they could go wandering around the school grounds in the rain, rain which was falling with such ferocity it was practically hammering from the flimsy windows. Though the door to the art classroom would be locked, it was a relatively warm corridor owning primarily to the presence of the large kiln that the art department had recently acquired. There were holes in the school roof but the art department kiln upgrade was obviously the more pressing issue. Will, Beverly and Brian all leant against the wall, chatting nonsense among themselves as the students that attended their art class began piling into the corridor. One of those students was James Olsen, who immediately set his sights upon Will, standing directly opposite him and trying in vain for eye contact.

“Hey, Graham. Heard that you got yourself knocked up.” He was gnarly looking boy who dealt codeine out of the back of his truck after lunch breaks. He grinned at Will, blocking his access to the rest of the corridor. His smile was blood curdling, the definition of bad intentions. Will knew he was an asshole because everything about him simply screamed asshole. He knew he was massively insecure above all the bravado, he knew about the gender identity crisis and the destruction that he’d experienced during his life. But it didn’t stop being genuinely terrified of him.  
  
“Lay off, asshole.” Beverly warned, shoving Brian aside to guard Will.

“I’m not interested in dykes today, kitty.” James approached Will, who stepped back a little more.  
“I mean, everybody knows that your financial situation ain’t the best. I bet you guys practically bought out Goodwill last winter, huh? But  prostitution is just never the answer.” He scolded. Will attempted to ease himself aside. He’d gone to relatively cheery to terrified in a mere second, adrenaline flowing through every pore of Will’s body. He was blocked by James’ ridiculously stocky form, the omega terrified by how close he was

“Just leave him alone dude, c’mon.” Brian looked more intimidated than even Will did, at that point but he still found it in him to speak up. James ignored him, getting even closer to Will.

Beverly made to punch him, just as Will had moved to slap him. The sheer force of the impact echoed through the corridor, around twenty sets of eyes all settled upon the awkward situation taking place between the three.

James’ reaction was immediate. Beverly’s punch had admittedly been a lot harder than Will’s panicked little slap, which had felt more like a sharp scald. Will was shoved backwards into the wall, hard, his head colliding with the display board, sending the world into blurry swirls upon impact. He could vaguely make out James attempting to punch Beverly right back. The two were immediately broken apart before things could progress. Will could make out Beverly kicking in the alpha’s direction, even with who he assumed to be Brian holding her back, a few jumbled curses exclaimed from both parties.

A young woman was at Will’s side before anybody else was, all business, the woman peeling off her cardigan and settling it behind Will’s head. Whether it was to support his head or mop up the blood that Will could vaguely feel congealing into his hair, he couldn’t say.

“Are you alright?” She asked. Will nodded, slowly.

“Yeah…” He wasn’t. The room was spinning and the face of the girl sat opposite him was blurring in different places each time he focused.

“I made somebody go grab a teacher. It’s okay, you're fine, probably just slightly concust, if anything.” Will's assailant was bickering with Beverly, completely unbothered by Will now he was relatively incapacitated.

“Got any aspirin?” Will asked and Alana laughed nervously because she wasn't sure if he was being serious or not.


	10. Chapter Ten

“Why didn’t you inform us of your pregnancy, Mr. Graham?”

Will didn’t really know how to answer that. He was sat alongside his less than pleased father, in the principal’s office, feeling like a scorned child. He supposed that’s what he was, really. He was holding a wrapped up ice pack to his head, the world having stopped spinning not that long after he’d been ushered to the first aid room. The two were sat opposite Principal Allander. She was an older woman, greying black hair past her shoulders and a face taut from years in the education sector. This was the first time he’d ever really interacted with the woman. She was a lot softer than she appeared and looked sympathetic to Will and Nicholas’ awkward plight.

“I didn’t really know I had to? I just figured when I started showing, that’d, y’know, be information enough.”

“We didn’t realize there was protocol for this kind of situation. Otherwise I would’ve asked Will to inform the school.” Nicholas elaborated.

“There’s hesitant protocol. We do have a program that we’ve had to use once or twice over the years to deal with cases like these. We can have you see a councillor a maximum of three times a week and offer you somewhere quiet to go if you ever feel overwhelmed.” She paused, considering. “Do you intend to continue with your education after having this child?” The woman eventually asked.

“I’m giving it away. So… That’s not an issue. I still want to come here. Unless I can transfer-“

“Will, you’re not transferring. You just got settled here, you have friends.”  

“Everybody knows, Dad.” Will sounds so miserably ashamed.  
  
“I can assure you that we take any kind of bullying very seriously. I’m taking this case particularly seriously as it was partially your status as an omega that made you a target. We’ll be dealing with Mr. Olsen internally but if it happens again it constitutes harassment and the police will be involved. Likewise, should you become a target for anybody else, we will follow the same protocol.” The woman paused, sighing.  
  
“Police? That’s seems a little extreme.” Nicholas remarked. Will couldn’t help but roll his eyes a little. He loved it when his father didn’t fight his corner. Because assaulting somebody you believed to be pregnant totally wasn’t serious enough to involve the authorities. 

“There have been… Prior incidents of harassment involving this student. Amongst other things.” The names of at least three different types of drugs ran through Will’s head but he remained silent.  
“Considering your son was outright assaulted today, I’d probably be a little more encouraging of police involvement.” Allander added rather bluntly. Will clucked his tongue awkwardly, his father’s face reddening.

“He was hardly assaulted. He fought back.” Nicholas argued.

“I have it on firm record from the twenty-or-so that witnessed the incident that both Will and Miss. Katz were provoked by this boy.” It was embarrassing, watching his father bickering with his school principal over a perceived threat to the boy’s manhood. A manhood that Will had tossed aside once he’d decided that Hannibal was fuckable, mentally, anyway. “I’d like to assure you both that Will will face no repercussions in relation to this incident. I would encourage you to take a few days off to recover, though, Miss Bloom seemed to think you might be slightly concussed.”

“I’m fine. I don’t want to miss my classes.” He’d missed more classes than he was particularly comfortable with, near constant doctor’s appointments and the occasional sick day tarnishing his once rather pristine record.  

“I can make sure your work is sent home to you.” She seemed eager to stop Will coming in for some reason. Despite the kind façade, he wondered if it was a reputation thing. Encouraging the embodiment of your educational establishment’s failings to attend classes seemed counter-productive, in the long run. “When you come back, perhaps next week, we can sort out some counselling.”  
  
“I think I’m okay.” Will grabbed his bag, eager to leave at the mention of psychiatric help.

“I mean, I don’t need therapy. I’m pregnant, it’s not like I’m…” He shot his father a quick look, not sure why he expected him to fight his corner. He didn’t but the Principal offered him this knowing look.  
  
“There’s no pressure. Our school has a PHD candidate offering therapy at the moment. She’s extremely discreet-“

“No thank you. Goodbye.” He stood in a rush, exiting the office, Nicholas rolling his eyes a little before grabbing Will’s backpack and following closely behind him.

In the reception, he was greeted by two people. Alana Bloom, her slightly bloodied cardigan pressed to her lap, offered Will a relieved smile at the sight of  him in one piece. She wasn’t the subject of Will’s attention, though, his heart in knots at the sight of Hannibal. He looked extremely concerned, immediately standing at the sight of his lover and approaching the brunette, pulling him into a careful embrace. Will wasn’t exactly a fan of public displays of affection but Hannibal’s embrace was perhaps the most welcome thing at that point.

“Alana called me. Are you alright?” He asked, stroking Will’s hair.  
  
“God, I’m fine.” Will assured, pulling away slightly to smile at Hannibal. “I mean, my head feels slightly fuzzy, but I’m absolutely fine. You didn’t have to come.” He was glad he had, though, settling himself in Hannibal’s embrace.

“I’ll be in the car.” Nicholas replied, visibly perturbed by the sight of his son in the embrace of another man.

He needn’t have bothered waiting. Will ended up leaving with Hannibal, much to his father’s visible chagrin. It had been the plan, for them to spend the evening together and while Will probably wasn’t in the best state to be away from home, if his concussion was to get worse, he would feel better around Hannibal than he would his father.  While he assumed home would have helped him relax, to some extent, Hannibal’s home was doing a reasonably good job of calming him. Murasaki and Robert were absent and there was no help around. It was just them.

“He was high.” Will explained, sat cross-legged on Hannibal’s bed. He was clad in one of Hannibal’s shirts, the alpha sat behind him, his hands lingering on Will’s stomach protectively. “I’m pretty sure. I mean, it was pretty terrifying, but also I’m not quite sure if I can, like, wholly blame him.

“He attacked you.” Hannibal sounded affronted, settling his chin on Will’s shoulder.

“He attacked you with the knowledge that you were pregnant. That’s unforgivable.”

“He attacked me because I slapped him. And to his credit, he did go for my head.” Will shrugged. He was relatively over it now, though the anxiety would return tenfold when he was return to school, he knew.

“Are you making excuses for him?” Hannibal inquired, audibly annoyed that excuses could even be made for somebody that had tried to hurt Will and by undeniable extension, his unborn child.  
  
“No. I’m just… I just know he’s troubled.”  Will shook his head. “Whatever. I’m just… How did he know?” Hannibal smiled a little, at that.

“You are aware that you’re starting to show, aren’t you?” He pulled his Will’s shirt up, settling his hands properly on the tiny little bump. Will looked down. While he was slightly bigger than he remembered being, it was really nothing to brag about.

“C’mon, that’s nothing. That could easily be a food baby.” Will grinned “Besides, I wear too many layers for it to be obvious.” He closed his eyes, sighing. “I’m gonna pass out.”

“I’m not sure if it would be wise of me to let you sleep.” Hannibal confessed. Will rolled his eyes, easing himself from Hannibal’s grasp and clambering up the bed regardless.

“Because of the concussion or because you want some action?” Will smirked at Hannibal, settling himself under the covers without hesitation.

“The concussion. How can you think so little of me?” Hannibal sounded almost offended, but he was smiling too.

Despite Will’s exhaustion, they kissed for a while, far more heated than the last time they'd been in bed together. It could've gone further than that, Hannibal's hands briefly slipped under Will's underwear. They'd ended up falling asleep before their encounter could progress. It was late, after all.

Will awoke briefly in the night. He never tended to sleep well in other people's beds, though Hannibal's was infinitely comfortable. His eyes peeled open, gazing at the empty spot that Hannibal had occupied when he'd fallen asleep with exhausted confusion. It didn't concern him enough to look for his lover. And when he awoke, the room filled with the orange glow of sunrise, Hannibal was back in bed, fast asleep. 


	11. Chapter Eleven

Will was dreaming.  
  
He didn’t realize this was the case, of course. He had this thread of conscious thought and within it, the situation that had presented itself within his dream, his body peacefully suspended in a still, large body of water, felt almost routine. Mundane, even. His surroundings were still and white with snow. Though Will didn’t have the comprehension to realise where he was,  his surroundings distantly familiar. The formation of the bare trees, the way they towered to the sky, it evoked  something deep within Will. There was no life to speak of, bar him and this light, omnipresent flutter in his stomach.

A growing cold, solid formation and Will suddenly found himself underwater. It felt no different to air, his lungs still somehow sustaining life. As he reached a hand up, to drift above the surface, the water was replaced by the thinnest sheet of ice. He pressed a careful hand to the cold, aware of several figures looming above him, aware that his surroundings were slowly but surely enveloping him in red. His nose felt like it was burning, his fingers tapping on the ice rhythmically on the ice. As the wisp-like forms continued to drift over him, his tapping became somehow more urgent, until he was practically smacking the ice, which was now thicker than a window. He felt this hand, this slimy, unfamiliar hand wrapping around his ankle, whispering in a voice that was foreign yet familiar all at once. Pulling him under. The smell, the sniggers, enveloping as he was pulled into the icy depths of nothingness-

He awoke with a start so violent he smacked his head on the headboard. There was this brief fuzz of confusion, a large force approaching him from the bed he was laying in.

“Will?" Hannibal voiced, concern dripping from his smooth voice  
  
“J-Jesus.” He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, Hannibal offering him a look. “Bad dream.” He cracked an uneasy smile Hannibal’s way. He rubbed the back of Will’s head tenderly,

“There’s been quite a bit of evidence suggesting pregnancy can trigger very vivid dreams.” Hannibal explained, smiling and rubbing Will's head. "I can't help but find myself considering if it may make you more susceptible to head injuries, too." Will offered him a confused look that was spurned by the smile on Hannibal's face. 

"Oh,  _haha_." Will winced, leaning against Hannibal. He rubbed his own head. It had been quite a few days since James had attacked him, a impressively sized bump lingering on his scalp.

"Are you alright?" Will nodded.

"Yeah, it's all good. A bit of bruising, probably, ." 

"I'm referring more to your dream." He looked concerned. Will shook his head.

"Yeah. I'm... I don't know. It was weird." Now he was awake, it felt misty and stupid. "I think I was drowning. There was water in my nose and I was stuck. Then something grabbed me and I woke up." He explained rather lamely, shrugging. "I mean, other than that, I actually slept pretty well." 

“I thought you might’ve. You were snoring all night.” Hannibal teased, seemingly eased by Will's reassurances. Will’s ears turned pink.

“A-ah. Sorry. I should probably start sleeping at home more.” He responded sheepishly, catching Hannibal's gaze properly. It made him feel inexplicably uneasy. 

“It doesn’t bother me.” Hannibal attempted to assure Will.

“W-well, maybe it bothers me.” Will responded, Hannibal instantly relenting. He stood. 

“Would you like some breakfast?” He asked.

“I think I’m good. I said I’d go home this morning, help Dad out.” Will stood from bed, unsure why looking at Hannibal was making him feel so uneasy.

“Shouldn’t you take a few days to relax? You’ve been busy all week, you're liable to overexert yourself” Hannibal sounded almost annoyed.

“I’m fine!” Will responded, shouted, even.

“Will!” Hannibal caught Will’s wrist “What is wrong with you? Are you upset that I noticed you snoring?” Will had a feeling Hannibal knew that wasn’t the reason behind his sudden reluctance.

“No.” Will admitted. He looked at Hannibal, suppressing the tears burning his eyes with little success. “I dreamt about you. I don’t know…”

“What was I doing?” Hannibal inquired, loosening his grip on Will. 

“Just… Lingering. Doing nothing. It wasn’t just you, there were other people, just… A blur of people, really.” Will shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does.” Hannibal felt the need to remind him. Will shook his head.

"I've had way worse dreams." He admitted, turning to face Hannibal, who looked suddenly far less threatening. "Sorry. H-hormones." He mumbled, Hannibal smiling softly at him.

"No need to apologize, love." He responded, soothingly, pressing a delicate kiss to Will's forehead. Will blushed.  

 

* * *

 

Hannibal walked Will home. He’d taken up a bit of a guardian role in Will’s day-to-day life, which the omega didn’t really mind. Of course, Will knew that it was down more to his assault than it was anything else, a biological urge to protect his young from any external forces that might wish to harm them. They ended up in the overgrown garden of Will’s home, Hannibal stopping at the front door, letting Will’s hand go. It fell limply to his side.

"Am I to see you again this weekend?" Hannibal inquired. Will mustered an aloof smile, nodding quickly.

"I enjoy forcing my company on you." Will admitted playfully.

"As do I." Will would've taken the response as a joke, if it hadn't been for the almost lustful look in Hannibal's gaze. He cleared his throat, staring at Hannibal, who promptly kissed him on the lips. His hand lingered against Will's undeniably large. Will wasn't sure if he'd been taken by the moment but he was quite felt something, or  _someone,_ flutter against the contact. His heart began to thump faster.

"I think it just kicked." He said, rather lamely. Hannibal's expression wasn't what he expected, more of a contented smile than tangible excitement. His hand didn't move, regardless. 

"I wouldn't be surprised. I'm as constant a presence in its life as you are, after all." He kissed Will again, a little longer, this time. "Have a wonderful day."

Will's face was on fire by the time he slipped into his home. He shut the door with his backside, which had almost doubled in size since he'd found out he was pregnant. For a few moments, he lingered there, calming himself down before stepping into the kitchen, which stank of smoke and beer. Nicholas was sat at the table, smoking a cigarette. He immediately stood when he saw Will, this flash of panic in his gaze that Will didn't immediately recognize. He tried to play it off, sinking down in his seat and grimacing hard at the table. 

"Not seen you for a few days." Nicholas voiced, gruffly.

"I did text you." Will replied, approaching the cupboard and grabbing a glass.

"So did I. You didn't reply." Nicholas defended, screwing up his face. 

"I didn't get any messages from you.” Will replied haughtily. “What's wrong?" There was more to it, and Will knew it.

"Can't deny I'd sleep easier if I knew where my son and grandkid where. 'Mean, I assumed you were at that Lecter boy's place, but-" He trailed off, fixated on the label of his beer. Will wandered to the sink, turning the tap on and offering his father an almost sympathetic look. 

"Sorry. I... It's a weird situation, I realize-" Will began but Nicholas interrupting him. 

"They found that kid dead. That fuck who smacked you, fuckin'-" Nicholas gritted his teeth. Will promptly dropped the glass he was holding. It fell into the sink, smashing upon impact. 

"Fuck!" Will exclaimed, blood creeping from his hand, into the sink. He grasped his hand, hard, looking to his father. 

"Will..." 

"I... H-he's-" 

"Yeah, he's dead. Little fucker got what was coming to him, if you ask me." Will offered his father a mortified look, his gaze suddenly fixated to the ground. “I was just worried. About you.” It vaguely occurred to Will that if he had really been worried, he would’ve come to find him. Nevertheless, he looked at his father, who took his injured hand tenderly and ran it quickly under the cold tap, washing away the ruddy liquid. “Don’t know what I’d do…” He muttered, more to himself than Will. Will looked away, out of the window, on the vast fields that their home backed onto. If he hadn't been so caught up in this new, horrific information, he might've been touched by Nicholas' words. 

"How did he...?" Will pressed. 

"No idea. Probably drugs, from what the Nathan at the bar was saying." Will could hear Nicholas' words, but he couldn't process them. 

“Y-yeah. Yeah.” He replied, distantly. His head was alight with copious amounts of information, suggestions. He couldn’t even begin to process. Even another small flutter in his stomach couldn't pull him out of his thoughts. His very  _guilty_ thoughts. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's been a while! Apologies for the massive period of inactivity. It was never my intention to stop working on this story. I kind of left it before I got to the good stuff! Life and wavering muses got in the way but I'm going to finish this thing if it kills me. I plan to go through and do some light editing of earlier chapters, as my direction /may/ have changed slightly in the months this fic was dormant.  
> Thank you for reading, you lovely people.


	12. Chapter Twelve

James Olsen was dead and Will felt responsible.

He wasn’t exactly sure why he felt the way he did. He knew, bar his suspension, he’d done nothing directly to harm his assailant. Well, certainly nothing that would’ve led to his demise. He hadn’t even been particularly angry at him. He hadn't been a nice person. No, he was an addict, a slave to chemical highs. Will couldn’t hate him. He was too broken to hate, too tattered, too gone. He poisoned himself because he had nobody there to tell him to stop, no father to influence him, a mother who simply did not care enough. He sort parental affection and praise from his peers. Will had to pity him.  

He wasn’t exactly sure how he’d found himself sucked into Beverly’s orbit on the evening after Olsen’s demise. She had a habit of turning up unannounced, it was often her thing, though it had become more of a rare occurrence than it once had been. It was almost as though she could sense Will’s distress.

On that particular evening they were sat on the decking of the Graham’s home, nursing cups of weak tea, which was how Will liked it. Nicholas had opted out of his nightly bar crawl that particular evening, settling himself in the kitchen, close to the fridge that was mostly empty sands his beers. His cigarette smoke drifting under the back door and into Will’s lungs. For once, he didn’t particularly care, the smell more reassuring than he would ever care to admit. They were sat in a comfortable silence, the obvious topic of conversation on the tips of both their tongues.

"I hope it was painless.” Will voiced, breaking the silence. He said it more to himself than to Beverly, pressing the brim of the mug to his lips, inhaling the steam but neglecting to drink.

“I don’t. Little fucker.” Beverly mumbled sourly. “God knows what he expected, putting that stuff into his body. It’s the parents I feel sorry for.”

“I don’t think he had any parents. Well, obviously, he did, but, y’know. Not real parents.” Parents like Will’s own mother, who hadn’t been in it for the end game. Beverly fell usually quiet, swinging her legs over the decking.

“He attacked you. I don’t get this indifference, it’s-“

“Odd? I’m hardly the pinnacle of normalcy.” Will said. “Maybe I saw things in him that you didn’t.” He ran his hand over the gauze on his hand, looking out onto the field. He swallowed, frowning and pressing a hand to his chest.

“You okay?” Beverly asked.

“Yeah. No. Heartburn.” Will explained and it was partly the truth. He leant against the panelling of his home, closing his eyes. Why did he feel so tired?                                  

“Oh, shit. Got any meds?"

“Just aspirin and prescription painkillers. Which I somehow don't think will help.” Will replied grimly. “I never get indigestion, damn.” At this, Beverly gave her first proper smile of the night, setting her mug aside and poking Will’s tiny yet definite bump.

“This one there might have to take some responsibility.”

“They don’t have to take responsibility for anything.” Will replied haughtily. “It’s not really their fault they exist.”

“Alright. Christ, what’s up your backside today?”

“Nothing.” Will huffed

“... Could that perhaps be the problem?” Beverly asked in this suggestive tone of voice that made Will’s jaw clench.

“Hilarious.” He replied crisply. Beverly fell quiet,  “Sorry. Not having the best day.”

“No kidding.” “Look, I know you probably understood Olsen more than like, anybody who he ever cared for. But you barely knew the guy. He ripped on you. He ripped on fucking everybody. He was not a nice guy, and dying of an overdose in a ditch was probably an apt ending for him.”

“Nobody deserves to die.” Will replied.

“I’m not saying they do. I am of the opinion that death is just the best thing for some people. If the brief picture you painted of that guy’s life is as miserable as you’re implying, wasn’t death the best thing for him?”

“I don’t know.” Will replied, honestly. He looked to Beverly. “I know that his decisions led to his death. But I just… I feel like I shoved the needle into him myself.”

“You didn’t.”

“I know.” Will responded. But Will did not know.

“You’re so lovely, Graham.” Beverly voiced, in this tone of voice that made Will smile. He shrugged.

“I’m an asshole.”

“Sure, but you’re the probably the nicest one I’ve ever met.” Will snorted, at that, finally taking a small, hesitant drink of his lukewarm tea. He turned to look properly at his friend, offering the girl small, sincere smile.

“Thanks, Bev. That means a lot.”

* * *

 

The technician rolled the probe over Will's stomach, the foreign sensation causing him quite a bit of discomfort. He'd been dreading this appointment, inexplicably so. He'd thought that, perhaps, his experiences with the last technician, who had been rather standoffish had somehow put him off. But that wasn't it. He couldn't look at the technician, a very kindly looking woman who had offered Will nothing but kindness since he and Hannibal had arrived. He also couldn't look at Hannibal, who was looming quietly beside him, letting Will take charge. 

“Good, strong heartbeat. Measuring up perfectly, too. You have a very healthy baby, Mr. Graham.“ The ultrasound technician praised and Will could practically feel the pride radiating from Hannibal. The woman's gaze fell lower on the tiny, grayish, but distinctly human projection of the being in Will’s stomach. She offered Will a kindly expression. “Are you wanting to know the baby’s gender? I think I can hazard a guess at it's class, too.” Will, whose gaze was flickering from the hem of his shirt to the screen, looked apprehensively at Hannibal. It was the first time he'd managed to make eye contact since they'd arrived at the hospital. 

“I didn’t even know you could tell the class this early on.” They certainly hadn’t been able to with him, Will recalling the shock of his first proper heat with some embarrassment.

“It really depends on the gender ” That made sense, Will supposed. His gaze flickered back to Hannibal, who was looking contemplatively at his the grainy projection of their child.

“I don’t think that’s our decision.” Will tried to quietly reason with Hannibal. “The baby isn’t ours.” He felt the need to remind him. The corners of Hannibal’s mouth twitched.

“You’re carrying the baby. I think you have every right to gender them, if that’s what you wish to do.” Hannibal’s emphasis on the word 'them' made Will scowl. Could it be that he’d already worked it out?

“Would make my life easier.” Will fronted, because fuck Hannibal knowing what his baby was  “Yeah. Sure.” The technician looked to Hannibal, having seemingly sensed his knowledge. 

"Care to hazard a guess, Dad?" If Will hadn't known better, he would've sworn he saw Hannibal's cheeks light up somewhat. Nonetheless, his expression remained the same, 

“I would say a boy. Though I don’t know the correct protocol for identifying class…”

“It’s a very speculative science. Of course, all in-utero gender identification is. Male omegas are the easiest to identify.” The technician informed them. She smiled warmly. “Your baby is a boy. From the size of the external genitalia I would assume he’s either an alpha or a beta. Of course, we won't know until after the birth." The birth. That was a concept that Will had managed to bury quite deeply. He trembled a little bit, Hannibal settling a soothing hand on his shoulder. Still, finally, a gender. Another trait to add to mostly conceptual being resting in his pelvis. 

They found themselves in Hannibal’s car, sat in relative silence. Will was grasping a snapshot of the sonogram. After a moment, he set it face down on the dashboard. He looked to Hannibal, frowning. 

“Do you know what they want to name them? H-him. Your aunt and uncle.” He asked. Hannibal looked at him, his eyebrows raised.

“I believe they were considering following the Lecter family’s naming tradition.” He admitted. “My paternal decedents all bare the name of my ancestors. The eldest male child is often named Hannibal. I’m the eighth to bare the name, my father bore it before me.” Will, though he didn’t mean to, winced.

"I was named after my alpha grandfather. A lot to live up to, there. I mean, I know it’s different, they assumed I’d be an alpha.” Will looked at Hannibal bitterly. “I don’t know. He’s not ours to name but I… I’d like him to make his own name. Something simple, like Adam or Laurence. Reese, maybe. A lot of your identity lies in your name, I-I think.”

“Have you been giving this any thought, at all?” Hannibal inquired with a slightly humored smirk. 

“Nope. Absolutely none.” Will replied. He slumped against Hannibal, his hand settled on his stomach. Hannibal allowed his own hand to follow, settling on the other side of Will's bump, his expression unreadable. “I know what you’re thinking. He’s not ours to name, is he?”

“I should hope my aunt and uncle take your wishes into consideration. You are their son’s mother, after all. Even if you’re not raising him, you're still to be a big part of his life.” Will smiled, though it looked distantly pained.

“It seems like a nice thing to do. Naming him after your father, after his father. I just want him to be his own person, y'know?” 

“We’re all our own people. I'm very unlike my father. He could make the name his own.” Will doubted Hannibal's words but he did appreciate the sentiment. “Are you feeling any better? You've looked distant all day.” Hannibal inquired, using his free hand to brush through Will's curls.

“Yeah. No. I… I feel different.” Will confessed. "It’s been a weird week. Lots of ups and downs, I-I guess." 

“Are you thinking about that boy?” Hannibal gave him this look that bore into his soul. Will sniffed. 

“A little.” He admitted. 

“Put it out of your mind. Don’t allow him to haunt you, Will.” Hannibal said. It almost sounded like a command. 

“I’m haunting myself.” Will shuddered. Hannibal offered him a frown. “I don’t know. I feel like I could’ve prevented it.”

“How? How could you have prevented a stranger from dying? A stranger who assaulted you, who put you and your unborn child in danger?" Will shut his eyes.

" _Don't_." 

"Will, you're being ridiculous." Hannibal scorned him, pulling away.

"I feel like I killed him." Will interrupted, his voice a shout. His eyes immediately widened, the brunette looking to Hannibal, mortified. Nonetheless, Will was expecting reassurance. To be called out for his insanity. There was this tense, gut-wrenching silence before Hannibal spoke, his voice cutting through the stillness like a blade. 

"Well," Hannibal began, in this very quiet, measured sort of voice. "Perhaps you did." 


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Hannibal was speaking to Will, his mouth moving, making slow shapes that looked like words. Words that Will knew was supposed to be comforting, the blind reassurance that he’d been expecting when he’d first admitted his distant guilt. Yet there was no sound was coming from his mouth, no tangible noise. All Will could hear is the pounding of his heart, radiating up to his ears. He reached for Will’s hand, which was snapped away as fast as Will possibly could, tucked into a tight fist and settled under his chin.

“Will…” Hannibal’s voice was suddenly sickeningly loud, as though he was shouting through a foghorn. Will jumped, distantly aware of the moisture dripping down his face, wetting the collar of his shirt. He wasn’t crying, though. No. Whatever was happening to him, it wasn’t crying . He scratched at the wrist that was still clutching at his clenched fist, his teary gaze drifting over to Hannibal.

“Please don’t touch me.” Will said, quietly. His voice held no malice, it wasn’t even particularly desperate. Just this calm, quiet monotone.

“Will, were you listening to me? It’s primal. It’s completely primal. I understand.” Hannibal didn’t make to touch him again but he was still looking at him, his eyes boring into the side of his head.

“He killed himself. It’s not… Easy, to make a death look like an accident, surely.” Will’s voice grew uncontrollably in volume, his eyes.

“Drug overdoses are rarely a method of suicide.” Hannibal voiced measuredly, settling his hand on the back of Will’s car seat.

“No. No, I-I guess that’s…” Will moved his hand, which was shaking violently, to his face, his mouth. Hannibal frowned.

“Why are you crying?”

“I’m not.” He wiped tears away with the sleeves of his sweater, which was far too-long, drooped oddly at the ends. “I’m not crying.” He repeated, far more clearly, though his voice cracked.

“There’s no shame in what you did. It’s normal. You’re an omega, it’s in your nature to rigidly protect your young. It’s biological. You assaulting this boy, that was biological. Self-defence.”

“Hannibal.” Will let his hands fall to his knees, grasping them, hard. His gaze dripped over to Hannibal and he gritted his teeth. “I didn’t. I’d know. I would know I did it, I’d remember it, but I don’t.” He sat straighter, taking a deep, measured breath.

“That-“ Hannibal fell silent. “It’s okay. I know it might not seem like it but it’s all okay. There’s no investigation, there’s nothing to link you to it. If there ever was, I’d protect you with my life.” Will looked up at him, his expression almost bemused, humoured despite the mad glint in his gaze.

“The baby.” Will corrected. “You’ll protect the baby, with your life. T-this is what you're trying to do, isn’t it?” Will considered Hannibal’s dark eyes, this almost manic grin on his face, his eyes still moist and bloodshot. He looked positively unhinged. “Y-you’re… You’re trying to make me think I hurt him, s-so you can have him all to yourself. Aren’t you? A-and when he’s born, y-you’re gonna shop me in for it, y-you’re gonna make sure I n-never- See, it all makes sense, now. I’m so stupid for not seeing it before, so stupid-“ Without warning, Will opened the car door, vomiting violently out of the vehicle. Hannibal, like a shot, leant across to grasp the back of Will’s head, rubbing his back soothingly. Will really was crying, this time, allowing Hannibal to touch him even though it burned.

“That’s not true. You know that’s not true.” Hannibal murmured, Will grasping his mouth and sobbing, gulpy, messy sobs. He brushed Will’s plentiful curls back, shushing him softly and tugging him with ease back into his car. “I’m going to protect you. Both of you.” He assured him, oh-so softly. Will trembled, leaning against Hannibal, hiding his face in his hands. "I don't know, if you did this, Will, but I will protect you regardless. Okay?" Will, rather violently, shook his head.

"No." He gulped. "No, it’s not..." Hannibal, leaning over Will to tug the car door shut, ran comforting fingers through Will’s curls.

"Oh, Will..." “What are we going do with you?”

* * *

Will was laying in Hannibal’s bed, the silken covers resting over his nose and mouth. His gaze was fixated upon the ornate swirls of the ceiling, hands resting rigidly at his side, clamped into tight fists.

He was restless, profoundly restless. Still reeling, nauseous from the afternoon’s events. It was so late, too, which was what got to Will. The soft conversation between Murasaki and Robert, which echoed consistently through the Lecter’s residence, this almost parental presence  had subsided. Will’s gaze hovered over the outline of Hannibal’s sleeping form. He, unlike Will, was fast asleep, his own breathing soft and rhythmic. Will was rarely awake for long periods of time while Hannibal slept. It made him seem oddly vulnerable, an aura he’d never particularly given off in Will’s presence. 

He heard Hannibal stur next to him, Will turning his head ever so slightly to examine Hannibal's state of alertness. A dark, hazel eye was half-open, gazing back at Will, who quickly set his gaze upon the ceiling again. 

“Will?” Hannibal murmured, groggily. He pressed a tentative hand to Will’s, who swallowed, flinching ever so slightly at the contact. He didn’t retract his hand, though, indeed he even grasped it, blinking softly at his ceiling.   
  
“Yeah?” Will voiced, after a moment, the vocalization strangely distorted.   
  
“Have you slept at all?” Hannibal asked, sounding far more alert than he'd been mere seconds ago. He turned over, so he was speaking in Will's direction. 

“No.” He admitted, his voice a hoarse murmur. “I’m not really tired.” He lied.  
  
“It’s very late. Are you planning on going to class tomorrow? I'll happily drive you.” Hannibal inquired.  
  
“Probably not.” Will said, turning to look at Hannibal. He seemed to stare right through him. "Probably won't sleep much." 

“I think you should try. It’s important for both of us to keep up with our educations.” Will scrunched up his face, at that. Hannibal sounded rather like the stable paternal influence he’d never had.

“I’ve not had a day off since I found out I was. Y’know. In that way.“ Will found himself responding rather sharply, the hand that Hannibal had been holding drifting over his stomach. “Even when-” He stopped. Hannibal furrowed his brow.  
  
“Will-”

“I’m fine. It’s not that, i-it’s everything, really.” Will admitted and perhaps for the first time that night, he was telling the truth. He touched Hannibal’s face lightly, stuck in leaning forward to catch Hannibal’s lips. He wasn’t sure what else to say, what else to do, other than kiss him. Which he did, softly. Hannibal was still for a moment, allowing Will to kiss him before he deepened it, guiding Will carefully onto his back, as though he were some sort of precious jewel. They kissed more, feverently, almost as though they'd never kissed before. As though they'd never even _touched_ before, let alone conceived a child together.

It was so different, from the first time, which felt like an eternity ago. The first time had been etheral, strange, distant. Will had realized, quite a while later, that he'd most likely been in heat during this time. Or at least some pseudo-heat. This was fast and real, Hannibal dragging down Will's boxers, touching every inch of his flesh. And Will moaned, quietly, because unlike the first time they weren't alone in the house. Yet the noises that slipped from his throat were constant, fervent, held real passion. Everything was different, it felt good and right as opposed to distant and nerve-wracking like the first time had. The kisses, the touches, the way Hannibal's hands and fingers seem to know the best places to touch him. Despite the fact they'd only been together once. 

They had sex, which seemed like the natural order of things. It was a welcome distraction, not nearly as messy and awkward as it had been the day Will (and maybe Hannibal, too, though Will somehow doubted it).  lost his virginity. Will was still staring at the spirals on the ceiling, beautiful spirals, spirals that seemed to pull him farther into this coital trance. It was so dizzying that even when it was over, Will was still transfixed. Years later, Will had this distinct feeling that he may end up pinning a lot of his life experiences upon the spiralled ceiling of the Lecter-Murasaki's home. 

Hannibal pulled out of him, a sensation that was both disgusting and oddly arousing. He kissed Will's throat, his cheek, murmuring terms of endearment into his flesh in a language Will could not place. 

“I love you, Will.” Hannibal eventually voiced softly, speaking in plain English. Will wanted to be surprised. He really did. But he knew. He knew instinctively, from the moment they'd first spoke, that Hannibal had seen something profound in this sad teenage boy who wore his hair too long and whose trainers were fraying at the sole. 

"Oh." Will replied. Despite the sex, the baby, the kisses, the rapidly brewing secrets, he found himself considering the admission. "I'm not sure you should love me." 

“What’s there not to love about you? You’re beautiful, in body and soul.” 

“I’m unstable.” Will said, as though it was obvious. 

“We don’t know that.” Hannibal responded, almost urgently. 

“We do, though.” Will grimaced. “I think your aunt and uncle should take the baby. Away. From me.”

“If you did hurt that boy, which we don’t know you did, I hasten to add, it was precisely because of our child.” Hannibal shook his head, rolling off Will and pulling him into a hug. 

“I should hand myself in. I should.” He blinked at the spirals. God, the _spirals_. 

“No.” Hannibal sounded almost aggressive, squeezing Will's hand softly but authoritively. “Our child is not going to be born with its mother chained to the hospital bed. Forget this, my love. Whatever happened that night died with Olsen.” Hannibal kissed Will's hand. "You are not unworthy of me. We are equally worthy of each other. I love you no matter what may or may not have done." Will knew this was his queue to admit undying love for Hannibal, to cry, to do  _something_ but he simply looked at Hannibal. 

"Yeah."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I /never/ write smut independently. During my days of rp (which I miss oh-so much, seriously, hit my ass up for gross dramatic omegaverse rps pl0x), it flowed so easily, mostly because I was writing with a masterful smut writer. Granted, with this fic, I did put a lid on it. Smut is required, sex is a part of life, but I wanted to keep the M rating as changing the rating mid-fic seems a bit... Dishonest. This fic is about Will and Hannibal's relationship in a really foreign situation. Not about their gloriously kinky sex life. I'm saving that shit for the sequel. ;)  
> The next chapter might take a while, I have a definite, final direction after literally half a year of deliberation and I'm hoping this thing will be in the bag before I go back to college after winter break. It's really just a case of getting those ideas onto paper. Thank you for your support, kudos and your lovely comments, they really do give me the motivation to continue writing this mess.


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